


Rules Were Meant to be Broken

by Bubblwalkr



Category: No Fandom
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:22:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 47,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29719230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bubblwalkr/pseuds/Bubblwalkr
Summary: Okay, a few things you should know about this world before you jump into this world of ours, dear reader.Angels, Demons, the Supernatural?Its all real.Oh! And a few small warnings.We cuss, we're vulgar, things get hot and heavy every once and while, and things can also get a little... bloody.What do you expect? We're Demons, sinners, we do what we want, when we want, without a care in the world! Well, unless some of our ... feathered brethren get in the way.Welcome to Hell, love~





	1. Prolouge

“Get back here!”

I gulped lungfuls of the cold night air, racing as fast as I could, tripping over branches, trees scraping at my arms and face, some lashing at me like violent whips as I continued to make my desperate escape.

Where the fuck was Cyrus anyway!? He was supposed to be the one helping me escape! As the poor wolf has been the Morningstar’s, “pet,” long before they grew tired of him, and summoned me to the mortal plane.

Humans are far more twisted than I remember.

I had spotted an unfamiliar cabin, and a swell of hope filled my chest, for it was not one of the Morningstar’s hunting cabins. But, I couldn't tell if it was lived in… Or if it would remain empty for the season.

“Help! Please!” I yelled, nearly slamming into the side of the building.

“Damien! You get back here right now!”

_Ka-click_

A sound that was all too familiar to me - a shotgun loading. I slowly held up trembling hands, and turned to face the Morningstar Clan, but a woman wearing a white robe, armed with a shotgun stood in the pale light of the full moon, gun trained on the man who led the chase.

Her skin was vampirically pale, and her hair was slightly past shoulder length, straight, and had unnatural colors. Charcoal black roots turned carrot orange, which still seemed dark under the moon. I couldn't see her face but found it odd she was wearing nothing but the robe. Like the freezing fall air was not a bother to her.

“Leave this place,” Was her command. A sweet voice that held a deadly edge, “And the boy stays with me.”

The father gasped in mock surprise, and began to open his mouth to speak, when a crack of the gun broke the silence. And a small explosion of the path of snow told us where the bullet hit - before his feet.

“You can't just take my son-”

“That's a Demon. Not your son. You all smell human. Plus, you're in Heltix now,” She pointed the gun at a tree marked with a red ribbon, “ And the law here states that all members of the Supernatural are safe here. And if hunters, or their summoners cross the border with ill will? Are to be executed. I suggest you all leave, before I have to fill you all with lead.”

Slowly, all five Morningstars sank into the dark of the forest. But, the father stayed, to utter one last threat.

“We’ll be coming for you, Damien.”

And with that, he slinked off. Following the footsteps of the rest of the family. The woman's gaze finally fell upon me, showing honey gold eyes. She held out a hand, and held the shotgun limply at her side.

“So, you must be who Cyrus was talking about. Nice to finally meet you, Damien.” She said, that sweet voice no longer held that threatening edge to it. Hesitantly, I took her hand as she led me into the cabin. Realizing that she was far taller than me as I did so.

“What's your name, miss?” Was my soft inquiry. And out of instinct, I tensed up for the moment she would slap me upside the head, and tell me to speak when spoken to.

“Saeko Miyazaki. Just call me Saeko though. None of that, “Miss Miyazaki,” bullshit. I may be old but not _that_ old. Not yet anyway,” She paused for a moment as she opened the door, “Relax, Damien. You're safe now.”


	2. Chapter One: Welcome to Heltix

“Damien? Can I come in?”

My head snapped up, recognizing the voice, even behind the heavy oak door. I sighed, and tossed my pen down.

“Go ahead, Vincent, but I am working so-”

The door gently opened, and he nervously smiled as he sauntered into the study, holding a folder close to his chest. He was a touch tanned, especially being a Demon who didn't exactly care if he was in the field or simply analysis. His jet black horns, straight, and sticking up one foot in length marked him as a Demon, that and his rather thick jet black tail with an arrow tip on the end. Between those horns was light grey hair lightly ruffled and pushed back, his bangs always disobeyed him, and were a deep crimson in a shape that minced fire frozen in time. It looked like the poor thing just got home and made some kind of attempt to relax. He was still wearing his two tone, black and white dress shoes, suit pants, and there was no alteration that had been made to his belt either. However, crimson tie had been loosened, the top few buttons of his shirt had been popped open, and the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. His black blazer hung over his shoulders, but that was how Vincent liked to, “wear,” his blazer. The Demon flopped into the chair, and tossed the folder onto my desk.

“Nobody that's close, I don't even recognize the name.” He muttered as I popped it open to take a look at the photo. A sigh of relief left me when I didn't recognize it either, but tucked the black folder into its proper drawer, before turning my attention back to Vincent.

“You don't know all of the names I dread seeing in your folders of death, don't act like you know what you're talking you're talking about, Coleman,” I wanted to growl, but refrained myself, and simply just placed a bit of an emphasis on his last name, “Anything to mention form the usual status report?”

“Purgatory's Border is a little … a little more _violent_ than usual. We might need a bigger filing system for the black folders, if you know what I mean. You might wanna have a chat with a feathered friend over there… What's her name again?” He asked, eyeing the bottle on the edge of my desk. I grabbed it, and tucked it away. With the brand? I was stingy with my cinnamon whiskey.

“Cynthia Fletcher. Actually, we may not be able to pull her out of there. A, we’d have to provide a place near Purgatory’s Border for her so she can still run her clinic. B, we’d have to help provide and care for every citizen of Purgatorio she takes under her wings. Regardless of species. And Cynthia likes to keep a neutral stance when it comes to politics,” I leaned back as I interlaced my fingers, “May have to leave her to burn. I’d hate to do that to a friend, but … Let her burn until she asks for help.

He nodded and continued to slouch in his chair, running his hand through his hair, between his horns.

“Please God-”

“We don't say that name in this house.” I hissed between my fangs, ignoring the bubble of a growl resting at the bottom of my throat.

“Fine. Please, _Satan_ , let tomorrow be the fucking weekend. This week has been rough… Why the _fuck_ is there a 16-year old Nephalem an _assassin_? What crackpot thought that was a good idea!?” Vincent whined, “Can I not deal with that Nephalem and her cat?

“What's the problem?” I asked, nearly pulling out a pen and pad. But, Queen Cassiopeia wasn't entirely my problem, she was the one who kept insisting she played double agent for me. But, it wasn't a two way street. She only gave us info about the Nightshade Clan, and never the other way around. Which was rather useful with Maxwell being the paranoid fuck he is, and how much he kept to himself.

“She told me off because I said K-Pop is trash-”  
  
“It is, and ignore the teenagers thirst for Korean boy bands. Is that all?" I tilted my head to the side, and waved for him to continue.

“I … I told her something I shouldn't have. I-it doesn't matter. Personal life doesn't really mi-”

“No, spill the tea. If the 16-year-old gets to know, surely I do.” I softly smiled, but Vincent shook his head and rose to his feet.

“Not yet, I’m … practicing for that one.” He said simply before turning on his heel, and leaving the study. The moment I saw his tail slither around the corner, I turned to my laptop to message Queen.

_Devil: You still up?_

_Bread: Yeah, Abraxas and I are finishing up some rounds in Purgatory’s Border. What cha need, Boss?_

_Devil: Vincent told ya somethin’. He won’t tell me._

_Bread: Wow, he almost had the balls to do it … He still owes me 50 bucks…_

_Devil: Tell me what?_

_Bread: A dark secret. He's … he keeps it close to his heart._

_Devil: That's cheesy as Hell, and you know that._

_Bread: Only way I know how to put it!_

_Devil: Why can’t it be simple? Straight?_

_Bread: It's far from straight ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)_

_Devil: Tell me._

_Bread: I don't know Boss…_

_Devil: Tell me or I'm skinning the cat._

_Bread: YOU WOULDN'T DARE_

_Devil: Mmmm. Skin him alive._

_Bread: Vincent has a crush on you._

_Devil: See? Now that wasn't so hard, was it?_

_Bread: You're an ass._

_Devil: I wouldn't have to go such extremes if you told me. Now, finish up your patrol. I need to go have a chat with Mr. Coleman. Goodnight Queen._

I heard the computer ding several times as I walked out of the study. Probably the Nephalem trying to get my attention and give Vincent the time to prepare himself mentally, or run. I honestly had no idea, but a lot of his playful banter was starting to make sense. I didn't even know he was gay! Well, not 100% gay, to my understanding, liking guys doesn't mean homosexuality. He could be bisexual, pansexual… a number of sexualities. I found Vincent’s door, and gently knocked. The music that had been softly playing was turned off, and I heard a shuffle before the door slowly opened, showing a very tired Vincent. He had ditched the blazer, and his tie had been pulled loose. Also the fairy lights that circled his bedroom ceiling were gently switching through the rainbow.

“ _What_?” He hissed between his fangs, waves of anger pouring off the tired Demon. I smirked, and folded my arms across my chest.

“Can I talk to you for a sec?” The phrase seemed to piss him off to no end. One hand ran through his hair, the other looking down at his watch.

“At fucking 12:47 in the _morning_? It can wait, Devil.” He hissed, moving to slam the door in my face, but caught the door with my foot.

“I got it out of her, Queen. You like me apparently.” The door slowly opened, and there was a mixture of anger and surprise on his face. Still contorted into a look of anger, but his eyes were wide with shock. He took a steadying breath before speaking.

“You threatened her, didn't you?” His voice was low, dark. Was he trying to intimidate me? Then boy needs to check himself. I nodded, and rolled my eyes. Why ask such an obvious question?

“Promised to skin the-”

“I made her use Demon’s Honor. I have my reasons for not telling you. Plus, since when did my love life matter to you!? Aren't _you_ the one who keeps telling me that love and this job doesn't mix!? So do me a favor, Damien. And go fuck yourself.”

The door sharply slammed shut, and there was the gentle _click_ of the door locking. I took it as he didn't want to walk anymore, and headed back to my study to find the laptop had stopped dinging, but looked at Queen’s messages.

_Bread: Damien! Stop!_

_Bread: Please God, go back to your laptop…_

_Bread: Old Man!_

_Bread: Old Man!_

_Bread: Fine… I’ll leave this for you to read_

_Bread: So-_

_Bread: Vincent is gonna kill me for this_

_Bread: Vincent’s Summoners were priests. They wanted to see if they could … rehabilitate a Demon._

_Bread: Imagine their displeasure when they discovered he’s gay. Isn't it a “sin to bed with another man?”_

_Bread: They beat, they pray the gay away_

_Bread: They beat him into the closet_

_Bread: He STILL to this day hasn't come back out, and him having a crush on you? Was baby steps. You should have seen his panic when he told me!_

_Bread: It all came at once, like blood flowing from an open wound…_

_Bread: Fuck! I think he told me because he ever so desperately needed to get it off his chest!_

_Bread: I only told you because I know you're an “honorable Demon” and your threats should not be taken lightly._

_Bread:_ _So yest. I broke a Demon’s Honor to save Abraxas’s skin. I ruined whatever trust I had with Vincent to save my familiars life_

_Bread: Fuck you_

_Bread: Cunt_

_Oh_

I didn't see it as anything new, we all have our traumas, our problems. I have mine, and I deal with them accordingly. Yes, I do hurt people in the process, but… It's how I've learned to deal with it, and before you tell me that there’s a better way to deal with this, then you show me the goddamn handbook on how to deal with trust issues. I left the chat, and opened a different one, named, “Purgatory.”

_Devil: Can I pull a favor?_

_Sis: Another background check?_

_Devil: Look into the summoning of a Demon named Vincent Jean Coleman. Specifically his Summoners._

_Sis: Ain't Vinny your right hand?_

_Devil: I may have crossed a line._

_Sis: How so? Tell me as I run his name._

_Devil: Summoners were supposedly priests. Trying to rehabilitate a Demon. Weren’t too happy to discover he's gay. Turns out Vinny has a crush on me. Something that's gonna keep me up tonight._

_Sis: It checks out. Apparently Marcus… was the one who said something… to those priests. Looks like I’ll have to talk to him about his “Angelic Plan” and let Vinny know. Also, why would that keep you up? You like him?_

_Devil: I mean… Yeah. But, I don't want a repeat…_

_Sis: Right. Dreamflow._

_Devil: I’d hate to be an asshole, but I'll have to push him away. Make it clear I'm not open for a relationship. I know that's gonna fuck up work, especially with him as my right hand. But, it's the only play I can think of._

_Sis: First of all, don't let what your Ex did to you ruin something beautiful you'd have with Vincent! Secondly, she was abusive! You know Vincent better than I. He wouldn't hurt you like that, would he?_

_Devil: The million dollar question right there._

_Sis: I'd hash it out with you right now, but you need your sleep. Especially with your insomnia._

_Devil: Yeah. Save it for morning. Night._

_Sis: Sleep well._

I grabbed my phone, and marched off to my room. I turned on the T.V. and put on something that would be easy to fall asleep too. I flopped onto the bed, kicked off my shoes, and pulled off my blazer, tossing it onto the floor. I hopped on the YouTube and put on some lo-fi stuff to pass out to. I was turning down the brightness when I picked up my phone and shot a quick text to Vincent.

_Devil: Come into the study in the morning. I need to talk to you… And apologize._

I didn't dare check if Vincent saw my message, I needed to sleep. Which would be rather difficult with Cyanide out of the country. Cyanide Crawford was our resident scientist and chemist, he could make medicines and drugs that would actually affect Demonkind. Which was rather nice. Having to go through rather painful surgeries because your healing ability is doing more harm than good, and it's made all better because you have drugs that can finally knock out a Demon. But, we deeply appreciate Mad Man Cyan. His paranoia keeps the recipe within his skull. Out of the hands of Demons, Angels … only Mad Man Cyan knows. But, I don't think he realizes that simple act keeps a delicate balance in play. If humans - mortals - knew of that? We’d be hunted for sport and our horns and wings would be mounted on racks as decoration. To think humans want to do that already, the thought of which makes me sick.

Demons and Angels are meant to be untouchable, killed only by their own kind or the opposite side! Not those that they're trying to corrupt or protect. It made me wonder if humans had been so tainted with sin, or if they had fucked God’s Green Earth into the shithole it is.

I try not to think about it all that much.

My phone buzzed, and out of lack of better habits, I rolled over and checked it. Not gonna lie, I've never been so excited to get a text.

_Foxy Lady: A gentle reminder I’ll be coming into Heltix tomorrow._

I wanted to squeal with joy! Saeko was coming! The Kitsune was the closest thing that I had to a mother, especially after helping my escape from the Morningstars. It made me think, wonder how fucked up it would be if they knew… That I, while human and living of course, I was a part of that family. My blood that they were so eager to spill over and over was their own.

Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

It also made me insanely curious, what had happened that made the Morningstars that way? How long had I been dead? Could I find my grave? What would it be like to find it?

I don't try to think about that either.

There's a lot of things I try not to think about.

I grabbed the shot full of a nasty concoction that Cyanide, with Sinder’s help had made to aid me fall asleep. I have a terrible case of insomnia, and we learned rather fast that three days for me? The dawn of the third day could get terribly chaotic… As that is when the hallucinations begin.

The sleeping draught, when it takes over me, it makes the bones grow heavy. The brain foggy, and everything just fades to black.

I don't dream much anymore, and when I do, it should be considered a vision of sorts. I don't get these visions because I'm a Demon, no… More or less they’re cryptic warnings from my better half.

More on him later. 

I awoke from my peaceful sleep to the sounds of yelling. I didn't know why this morning could be so chaotic other than…

_Nikkiye!_

I got dressed quickly as I could and rushed downstairs. Tripping over the laces of my high tops until I reached the balcony that overlooked the foyer. Looking down I could see the catfight that was starting. Between Nikkiye Winston, and Saeko Miyazaki. Nikkiye was one of the two Nehpalem’s in my, “workforce.” She was constantly gunning for the position of right hand man, but that was one to _not_ be earned. Even if the current right hand man died - that title going to Vincent currently - her chances would be slim. Yes, you could work up from the very bottom to her position, but never right hand. Even though she was mortal, she was far from the youngest, as Queen held that title. It had been quite some time since I had seen Nikkiye, as she was almost _constantly_ on assignment. It was fine, she liked it that way. Her hair was wavy, unruly, and a deep violet at the roots that transitioned to magenta. For her, the most normal thing about her was her eyes; deep blue with hazel outlines. She was very much into … I guess decorating herself? She had a number of tattoos and piercings, most of which were hidden at the time with her attire. Nikkiye wore black combat boots with a slight heel, slightly ripped dark blue skinny jeans, and a black hoodie with red outlines. Which she was wearing for once instead of having it around her waist. Only a few tattoos were still clearly visible, one on her jawline, which had a rose with the thorns, “embedded,” into her skin, and the blood dripped down past her collarbone. And you would only catch glimpses of another one on her wrist. A 6-lined staff with an 8th note high about it, it's tail reaching down to the bass clef, which actually sits on the staff. Also sitting on the staff sits dripping splotches of dark blue, violet, and magenta. Oh, and I'm far from done! Once I’m done with Nikkiye, it's on to Saeko! It seemed that Nikkiye was wearing most of her black piercings, as the ones that she typically wore would make too much noise for when she goes on her assignments. She had snake bite piercings like Vincent, but instead of the simple spike, it was a half ring with a ball on either end. Now, Nikkiye is a mix of so many supernatural things, and if I remember correctly, she’s a werewolf, an avian, a Nephalem, and a siren.

Yeah. Whole mess of trouble.

Why am I telling you this? So you can understand her piercings are in the wolf ears attop her head, not what humans are accustomed to. Anyway, on her left ear are a set of studs that run up her ear, and two small black loops. The right ear had the same studs, but instead of the loops, an industrial bar.

I never understood why. _Why_ so many piercings and tattoos? Was it supposed to be a sign of pain tolerance? I mean a drop of her blood could tell you that! Technically speaking, she's not even supposed to exist! Especially with _so much power_ bottled within a mortal coil. 

However, even with the amalgamation of creatures in her blood, we mostly refer to her as a werewolf or Nephalem. She was nearly growling at Saeko, who was very calm about the whole endeavor. Saeko, for once, was not dressed very elegantly. As she had a preference for suits, and very rarely, kimotos.

Before you ask, the Kitsune is Japanese. Born and raised in Tokyo. She speaks english very well, and you might guess that she was a Brit based on her accent. Saeko had been living in London for quite some time to my understanding.

As of now. She was wearing a pale blue v-neck, a black blazer, dark blue jeans, and black flats. Simple, nice, but not extravagant. Saeko had a love for her silks and cashmeres, and she had the money to pay for it all. Her honey gold eyes indicated she was very calm about it all, as her eyes changed upon her mood. Which was a huge relief. An angry Saeko? An angry _Kitsune?_ Was not something to be trifled with. She had long, straight hair that came down to her shoulders. With charcoal roots that transitioned to carrot orange. With Heltix being a safe place for all of the supernatural, a pair of snow white ears poked out of the top of her head, and her matching tail waved behind her.

“Hey! Knock that shit off!” I yelled, leaning so far over the rail that I was practically falling off.

“Who let this _fox_ in here? Dami-”

“This isn't a _wolves_ den, Nikkiye. Not even a foxhole. This is a _Demon’s den_ _._ Don't go forgetting who your boss is, _wolf_ _._ Plus, that's my _mom_ you're bad mouthing,” I smirked as I watched her face fall. She looked from Saeko to me, trying to make the connection from her to me. I rolled my eyes and sighed, “Adoptive mother, she didn't birth me.”

I slid down the railing, and approached the two. Only to fall face-first after tripping on my laces. Saeko chuckled, and helped me up.

“Mom? You're finally okay with calling me that?” She softly asked. I crouched to tie up my high-tops, and nodded.

“I don't know where my real birth giver is. I was told she died when my sister was born, and if she's in Heaven, shame, I have no memory of that place after falling,” I stood and dusted off the front of my hoodie, “Plus, what cha doin’ home, Nikkiye?”

“Who do you think supplies the fires with wood? With winter coming, we need it now more than ever. So, I was gonna do a touch of deforestation, replant in the spring. Well, that was until I saw an anthro-”

“Kitsune.” Saeko curtly interrupted.

“The fuck is that?” Nikkiye asked, folding her arms across her chest. Looking at me with that venomous stare of hers. I sighed, and told Saeko to go set up in one of the guest rooms, that I would handle the Nephalem. I launched into a quick explanation that Kitsune in the literal sense is the Japanese word for fox. In the context it's being used here, she is a fox _spirit._ Intelligent creatures with paranormal abilities that increase as they grow older and wiser. I also left behind a valuable warning with her. A Kitsune should not be pissed off, and made the quick joke that I got my bloodlust from my mother. Without another word, I rushed off to my office. I had slightly slept in, and who knows how long Vincent had been waiting there.

I brust in, and he was sitting in one of the chairs in front of my desk. Back straight, shoulders pulled up to his neck… All of it screamed stressed to me. Not to mention the way he nearly jumped out of his seat, and turned his attention to me.

“Damien! Didja sleep in?” He replied in a shaking voice. I nodded and headed towards the desk, sitting in the large, comfortable black chair behind it

“Yeah. Also, calm down. I just want to talk. You're not in trouble.” I said softly as I flopped into my chair. He ran his hand through his hair and sighed heavily.

“You can keep sayin’ that, but I ain’t calming down,” Vincent muttered, “So, what is it that you want to … talk about?”

“First of all, I’d like to apologize. I shouldn't have threatened Queen or Abraxas to get something that you wanted to keep secret. Even going so far to make her go back on a Demon’s Honor. I just … I've got trust issues. To put it simply, I don't like liars. Secondly, I shouldn't have let _my_ issues and _my_ trauma get in the way of my better judgement and let it hurt _you_ _._ So, I'm … I'm sorry, Vincent.” I looked up at him, and saw him far more relaxed, smiling even. 

“Wow… I was expecting to get screamed at. Not… an apology,” He mumbled, “Who knew you could apologize. Or be soft.”

“I'm not being soft,” I hissed between my fangs, “I am anything _but_ soft.”

“Sure. Whatever you say, Damien. You done or..?” His tone had switched from almost cheeky, to a small waver, like he was afraid that at any moment I’d start yelling at him.

“Nah, just some things I'm curious about. Why? Why exactly do you look at this ugly mug of mine and think, “Ooh I've gotta get me some of _th_ -””

“Don't you even start with that. First of all… I-” His face was beginning to turn pink, like he was beginning to realize what exactly I had just asked of him, “Okay so, umm… You're kinda… When you’re mad.”

“I'm _what_ when I'm mad?” I asked, watching as the Demon’s gaze no longer met mine, and went to his twiddling thumbs.

“And it … it strikes at odd times. Like, you could be so fucking pissed about something, killed someone, covered in their blood. And… It strikes. Butterflies. All I wanna do is stop and stare, but the battlefield is not the place to do that while you're asking me to patch you up. That, and you're one of few. To stop and ask if _I’m okay_ _._ To come down from that pedestal you hold yourself on and say, “Hey, I fucked up.” Not a lot of people do that for me.”

First of all, there was the odd attraction to me while I was ready to bite someone's head off. But, taking the time to stop and care for another person, _that_ I understood. That is what started the little bud when it came to me liking Vincent. He didn't run and scream because he saw a monster, something I’ve gotten rather used to. He went _towards_ the monster, and tried to help. Bandage wounds. I smiled and began to rise from my seat.

“You're dismissed, don't worry about it. Just … know that your crush does not go one way.” And before more could be said, I headed out of the office, and down to Saeko’s room.

But, something should be said about this house… this manor.

It's often referred to as the, “Morningstar Manor,” which is not only incorrect because the original Morningstar Manor burned down hundreds of years ago, but the manor isn't really mine. Yes, the name Damien Morningstar is written on the deed to the house, but this isn't my manor. It belongs to anyone seeking refuge. Fuck, most of the people who work for me have never stepped foot in the Morningstar Manor! Most of those who live here use the Manor as an escape. Be that from people, the law, or the past.

It's a fairly large place not to mention. The left wing has mostly bedrooms, where people stay here at the Manor, the door marked with a symbol of that person’s choosing. In Saeko’s case, the door was marked with a small red and white cartoon Kitsune. The right wing was more… work related. On the south end is the library, which is open to anyone except for the reading room and breakfast nook. Those are mine. But, in the library is something akin to one might see in a computer lab in a school. They’re open to anyone who needs a computer, and is mostly where people write their daily reports. Not too far from the library is my study. The office, some might say. The walls are lined with books, ancient texts, and every spellbook I’ve ever read or learned from. There's also a small room used for weight training in the right wing, and holds a small boxing ring for those who want to test their skills. If you wish to test your magical skill, you go into the basement. As those walls were designed to withstand an onslaught of powerful magic.

I gently knocked at the door, and Saeko threw it open, crushing me almost instantly in a hug.

“Damien! It is so good to see you are doing well!” She cried, giggling, “Any news on Cyrus?”

Right. She was still looking with me. It was nice to know that after all these years she had still not given up hope that my brother was somewhere out there.

“I've had to put Cyrus on the backburner. Lady Blackwood and the Angel have made themselves rather problematic.” I muttered, hating the ache of guilt in my chest at the words. Cyrus had been missing since my escape from the Morningstars in _1932_ , which was _87 years ago_ _._ Yes, 87 years is a long time for a werewolf, but as long as he kept shapeshifting into the wolf, he would be fine. Unless he permanently stopped? Then Cyrus is long gone. Saeko sighed, and shook her head.

“We’ll find him, Damien. Don't you worry. Now, tell me about Lady Blackwood and the Angelic one down the lane. Catch me up on what I’ve missed."

I took her on a walk through the gardens and told her as much as I could. I told her about Lady Blackwood, and how she continues to spread her message of how Angels and Demons should not stalk God’s Green Earth. How they should be cast back into their respective Heavens and Hells. That they should be condemned no matter what, and her new rule in the city she held; Foxhedge. The new rule stated quite clearly that Angels and Demons were to be detained if caught over the border, and that they were to be tortured to the point of clinical insanity before being killed. This drew a little gasp from Saeko, and she looked at me with nothing but shock, and worry in those now ocean blue eyes. I then went on about the Angel; Abel Fallensteel. He had been causing problems on Purgatory’s Border, and from what I had heard, other than Vincent last night, he was trying to claim Purgatorio, and make it a part of Heaven’s District. Which wouldn't be good for the city. Heaven’s District had a very strict rule of Angel’s Only, and anything, Demon, Anthro, or Human walked over the border? Were to be shot on sight. Which, in my opinion, is far more merciful than Lady Blackwood’s treatment of Angels and Demons. I had thought about taking the city myself, but the destruction that would be wrought upon the city… Would it be worth it? Purgatorio had taken years of abuse from both Angelkind and Demonkind taking out their race war. A small war between the two would cause more damage… That would take _years_ to repair, for the city to recover, for the _citizens_ to recover.

Me taking over would be best for the people, but it's a double edged sword. One part is at the Angel, the other is the city.

“Do it,” I looked up and her eyes were back to honey gold, with a crimson ring around them, “Damien, you're far too worried about the _present_ _._ Think about the _future_ , for a moment dear. Under your protection? They’ll never have to worry about the race war between Angels and Demons ever again. The city will rise and be stronger than ever. The _citizens_ you're so worried about? Will finally feel _safe_.”

“How do you even know that? Even with your, “Infinite Wisdom.”” I hissed, folding my arms across my chest as she smiled.

“Astral projection, my boy. I check up on you in Heltix sometimes. Other times, I just stroll about, see what's going on back here. Back home,” She smiled sweetly before approaching a rosebush and reaching out to touch the flower, it nearly turned black the moment she touched it, “But, if what I’ve seen of Mr. Fallensteel is true, and what you've told me just now is true. Then someone needs to put that Angel in his place. Start with Purgat-”

“I haven't done it because there's been talk of an alliance. Both of us. Against Lady Blackwood.”

A laugh tore from Saeko’s throat as she threw her head back, smiling as she cut the rose away. I winced, knowing how the gardner would react if she saw such a misdeed fall upon her plants, roses specifically.

“What do you need him for? White magic is so weak. So… Disgusting. You're a grandmaster. You shouldn't need him. If anything, a review of your most powerful spells, but an alliance? With an _Angel_ of all things? You forget yourself, Damien,” She pressed the rose to my chest, the thorn pricking her palm, and it dug slightly into my shirt, “Plus, you reside with black magic, the power, the well you hold? You could flatten this whole _state_ within _days_.”

She smiled and headed back to the house, her tail waving high and proudly behind her. I pulled the rose off of me, and planted the stem right next to the rosebush. I muttered a small apology to the plant, and sat beside it, thinking of what Saeko had said. Yes, my mother had a very strong distaste for Angels, but I know not all Angels are bad. I know a few good ones… Well, one good one. My sister. Veronica Morningstar. She didn't follow me when I jumped off the fluffy clouds of Heaven, and began my descent to Hell. I thought about calling her, and talking to her about the dilemma and Purgatory’s Border. But, she made her visits to Earth few and far between for a reason. Veronica didn't like to, “meddle in mortal affairs.” The few times she had come to Earth was to reprimand Fallensteel. I was on speaking terms with the Angel in question, I could talk about it to him, but talk was exactly that. Talk.

_Actions speak louder than words._

So, action I will take.

Depending on the current violence, and the obvious resistance from the Angel, I would need some pretty strong players. Vincent would be a valuable piece, and any of his poker buddies could be helpful. Sinder would be most definitely needed, as a medic or fighter, either way, she was needed. Same goes for Mad Man Cyan… There was so much to do, so much to plan… I headed back to the house, and headed up to my study. I found Vincent looking around, seemingly for me, because he trotted up to me, smiling.

“There you are, Devil! I've been looking for y-”

“No time, I’ve got a war to plan!” I cried as I headed into my study. Vincent was taken aback, but slowly followed.

“W-who are we fighting?” He nervously asked, as I plopped down behind my chair.

“The Angel. We take Purgatorio.” I muttered, going into the database, and pulling out profiles. Examining who would be best for what.

“Why? Let him have it! The city is-”

“Think of the future, Vincent. When we win-”

“ _If_ we win, Devil.” He snapped, folding his arms across his chest.

“ _When_ we win… We can help the citizens rebuild the city. We can protect them. Fuck, if we give them enough resources, Purgaotrio will go from a _border_ to a _district_ _._ Think of it, Vincent! Families home, being able to sleep peacefully, knowing that they won't be attacked by Angels or Demons tomorrow. A safe, neutral space. Like Whitehaven!” I explained, smiling as I did so. Saeko’s idea of the citizens being safe had dug into my brain. Saeko once went out of her way to take care of two kids running from their abusers. I now had to repay that kindness, yes, on a far larger scale. But, nonetheless, still repaying it forward. Vincent sighed, and took a seat at my desk.

“I can’t talk you out of this, can I?” He tiredly asked, I rolled my eyes, and went back to the files.

“A, you can’t because I'm your boss. And B, nope!” I exclaimed, popping the p. He sighed, and began to look over the files with me.

The first to go on our list of candidates for war was Nikkiye Winston. With the amalgamation of creatures in her blood, she had a deadly skill set of powers. Not to mention, she was strong enough to tango with Angels. She would most definitely go on the front line, or would command a small force herself. That would be decided later. I was in the middle of messaging Nikkiye about it all when Vincent selected a second.

Benjamin Costner. One of his poker buddies I mentioned earlier. Ben wasn't particularly strong enough to be on the front line, so Vincent suggested that Benjamin was to be used as defence. The Demon of the medbay. I’d got into drunken fights with Benjamin, and found a great deal of his strength was drawn from a pentagram jewel string tie. If that was broken while he was on the battlefield? He would most certainly be in some hot water.

While Vincent contacted Ben, I got a response from Nikkiye, saying she’d brush up on her skills and bring her best weapons to the fight. Not to mention, accepted an invite to stay at the manor while we gathered everyone for war. 

Slowly, Vincent had enlisted almost his entire poker group. Except for Theodor Hudson and Felix Feline. Theo nearly being Abel’s right hand man, and Felix was too soft. He didn't have magic, and had a plethora of mental instabilities that would not be aided with some time on the battlefield. Not to mention, Felix lived in Purgatorio. So, obviously, we offered him a room here at the manor. Of those he did recruit? Were as powerful as Vincent. Chayyliel Blackwell was a fallen Angel, and had friends who lived in Purgatorio, so he was more than eager to fight. He was good with magic too, wielding both black and white magic would be useful for a quick heal and causing some pain. 

The other of Vinny’s poker buddies was an anthropomorphic bear by the name of Barnibas Cohen. He could tangle with the supernatural, not to mention the bear could handle quite a bit of damage. It was amazing to see him get _shot_ and quite literally _shake it off_ before biting the guys head off. I ever so desperately wanted to fight him myself. See if I could hurt him.

Cyanide, of course, was added to the list. But, with his unique set of skills, war would be tricky for Mad Man Cyan. Cyanide often preys on the fears and weaknesses of his attackers for an advantage. Which makes Cyanide most vulnerable in situations where he is dealing with random people, and not people who he's studied for hours and hours on end. Unless he became unhinged… As a poison Demon, when he grows unhinged, and shows his monster, he starts to emit a sweet smell that almost hypnotizes people, drawing them in closer. The scent alone is a highly dangerous poison that starts with shutting down the brain… A living canister of, well, cyanide.

Sinder Hellman was added to the list once I explained one of her powers to Vincent. The spider Demon’s webs could be used as bandages, and even aid in healing. Or be refined into string and used in stitches. Not to mention were biodegradable, so one didn't need to worry about stitches being removed. I was explaining her medical prowess as Vincent started messaging her, telling me that she would make a fantastic medic. I argued surgeon, but I was brushed off as he made the call. 

So far, everyone we had enlisted was ready to go, and most would be arriving tomorrow. I could examine them in person and decide what the weak link in the chain was. Not to mention test their strength myself. Everyone who works for me has dealt with it. That one moment where their boss, a high-ranking, grandmaster, Demon, approaches them, and with a shit eating grin, yells, “Fight me!”

I thought about enlisting Salem Winchester, the current Archangel of Death, but decided he would be rather busy with deaths on both sides. Not to mention citizens being caught in the crossfire. Plus, I wasn't on the best of speaking terms with Salem anyway, there was no way I’d be able to sway the Archangel.

The next two to go on the list were Amy Sigma and Toby Heart. Amy was the current Assassin of Hell, Amy has held onto the title for 200 years, which makes her the one to hold the title the longest. Considering that the title goes onto whoever kills the current Assassin of Hell. The title means nothing to other Demons unless you've held onto the title for a long while and have proven themselves worthy of the name. And worthy she is. The only thing that is considered bad or disrespectful is that she comes to Earth to hide, which is something Demons don't necessarily do, unless told by higher powers, or if their jobs require it. She doesn't work for me, but has a room here in the Morningstar Manor. As for Toby, they were rather skilled with their ability. Not to mention, their species purpose in Hell _is_ war! Fire Demons are not only resilient, but their blind rage forces them to ignore wounds and keep charging into battle. 

Vincent went off to make a pot of coffee, muttering something about how tonight would be a long one. I, however, picked a few more candidates for our list; Queen Cassiopeia and Abraxas Jeon. Queen, although only 16, was a dangerously powerful Nephalem. She could take my strongest spells, and come out almost unscathed. With how she worked combatively with her familiar, Queen was the shield, being able to take huge amounts of damage. Abraxas was quite the opposite, being the sword of the duo. But, a simple way to finish those two was to separate them, and battle them individually. How do I know that? Fought them myself, and nearly killed Abraxas in the process.

I got a hold of an old drinking buddy of mine, Charlie Wolf. Now, before you tell me I'm a bad person for inviting a _drinking buddy_ to a _war_ , let me explain myself. Charlie, or, “Ace,” to the people who know him well, is amazing at poker. He has quite the poker face, and he's rather smart, thinking 12 steps ahead of everyone. He's pretty good at hand to hand, and he may not look it, but boy can Ace _move_ _._ He moves so fast he looks like a blur to me, and with how fast he is, how hard he hits, and his knowledge of pressure points? Ace can knock me on my ass. I'm just … too slow compared to Ace.

When Vincent returned with the coffee, he looked over Charlie, as I started examining my friends like chess pieces to put on my little board. It made me feel sick just a little bit, but it needed to be done. These people were the rooks, bishops, and knights. These were my far stronger pieces. I would be akin to the king, and Vincent … he’d be my queen.

That sounds weird.

Anyway, I moved on and started considering a friend by the name of Alexandra Armstrong. A Hellfire Demon like Amy… Hellfire would be rather useful against Angels, since Hellfire is hotter than any flame, natural or manmade on Earth. It's actually the exact flames in Hell, the ones that burn, tear, and take everything from you. The ones you feel licking at your skin when you fall, when you die and are tortured eternally to burn in those flames forever. She was good at magic, but not physically strong. So, another Demon of the medbay. At least Benjamin wouldn't go crazy just talking to Sinder all day.

Now, a harder decision was to be made… Would Lilly Winchester join us in our war? Even though she was 1,409, she was a child at heart. She was also like Felix, mental instabilities that made her weak. But, even with her D.I.D. … she was so powerful. Being a Shadow Demon, she is highly intelligent, and uses her intelligence to learn about plants. It's a grounding technique for her. So all of the alters know a little bits about botany. She also uses her knowledge to learn about her disorder. She also has an extensive knowledge of both white and black magic. That extensive knowledge and the way she fights? Would make her a valuable piece. As a fighter, she cuts no loose and feels no remorse for those she kills, and does not show restraint. Lilly uses the full extent of her powers, and when she gets started, it's hard for her to stop. She's a loose cannon on the battlefield, and with her Disorder and things that could be a new trigger…. I decided that I would call upon Lilly if the situation grew dire enough. A last resort. Vincent, however, was very insistent upon having little Lilly on the front line.

“Why a last resort? Put her on the front line.” He snapped, pointing at the computer as he flipped through her file.

“No. Not with her D.I.D.-”

“The fuck is D.I.D.?” Was Vincent’s next question.

“Dissociative Identity Disorder. Or the older, far more inaccurate term, Multiple Personality Disorder. I can’t put her on the front line, we could find a trigger that makes Lilly retreat, and someone else fronts. And trust me, you _don't_ wanna meet Victor,” I sighed, and launched into an explanation of who Victor was before Vincent could ask, “He’s a prosecutor. He's a man seeking power, and doesn't feel right by being in a girl's body. He does not have inappropriate thoughts about Lilly, but has been stopped from getting chest surgeries, and gender reassignment surgeries. Doctor’s recognize Victor, Lydia, and Lilly, and will always refuse him the surgeries. Victor will typically get himself into situations he cannot handle, or things where he needs help, as he neither has the magical or tactical prowess that either of the girls have. He can handle a fight or two, but is not capable of tangling with people like … me for example. We don't know what trigger it is that would make Lilly retreat, and bring Victor forth. Not to mention, Lydia wouldn't like it if I asked any of this of Lilly. So, Lilly Winchester is _exclusively_ a last resort. You try to fight me on this? Oh, I’ll make sure you regret it, Vincent.”

I hissed his name between my fangs, and had switched to a lower tone. Something to strike fear and restate that I was not to be misunderstood. He quickly nodded, and looked back at the collection of files we had been sifting through. During our search for candidates.

I decided that we had enough valuable pieces, and that Vincent was to gather not only the citizens of Purgatorio strong enough to fight, but the pawns of mine here in Pandemonium. I sat back in my chair, spinning around to look out the window. Oh, the Angel would know of a Demon’s wrath very soon… If anything, I called him, and put him on speaker, resting my phone on my desk.

“Damien Morningstar. What do you want of me?” His tone was low, almost a growl. An intimidation practice? I doubt it.

“I wish to warn you.” I replied, trying so hard not to laugh or smile.

“Warn me of what? Is Lady Blackwood-”

“Purgatorio. Back down, unless you want bloodshed.” I let the shit eating grin spread. It always made me so excited at the thought of scaring him. Not to mention encountering him on the battlefield.

“You're joking… We’ve been talking of alliance and Lady-”

“If you take Purgatorio, thousands will die. I know of the very strict, “Angels Only,” rule in Paradicio! So, if you take Purgatorio... Nephalems, Demons, Anthros, Fallens, all will fall under your blade. The city has suffered enough, the _citizens_ have suffered enough. Consider this a declaration of war, Angel. See you on the battlefield my friend.”

“Dami-”

_Click._

_What a beautiful day_ , I thought to myself, watching the sky, _what a beautiful day to start a war_ _._


	3. Chapter Two: The Battle of Purgatory

“Damien! Get up!”

I jolted to life, and rubbed at my eyes. Who the fuck…

The door flung open, and Vincent was there, standing in his doorway, dressed in his suit as per usual. I pulled the blanket over my head, and rolled over on my side, only to have it taken away by Vincent. He threw it back at me, realizing I’d been wearing nothing but my boxers.

“Get dressed, let's go!” He shouted, nearly stomping his foot.

“What’s happening? Wha-”

“We’re going to evacuate people! Let's go!” He yelled. I got up, and headed into the bathroom.

“Okay, Jesus, why are you excited?” I muttered.

“Cuz I got the boys to help! Especially since we’re moving Felix into the manor today. Now let's goooo! I want you to meet Felix!” Vincent cried, nearly bouncing on his toes, “So be ready in like what… 10-15 min? Mkay?”

He gleefully trotted out of the room, sharply closing the door behind him. I was able to slowly wake up in the shower, but numbly got dressed in my suit. Following Vincent’s lead, not to mention a suit was kinda sorta the uniform. I grabbed my phone, and was tucking it into my back pocket when Vincent threw open the door again.

“Damien! Let's go!” He yelled, “I got you a coffee in the car!”

“Okay, jesus christ calm down.” I muttered under my breath, following the Demon down to the car. The car was Damien’s, being a black Phil’s 1967 Mustang GT, all black with a cherry red stripe running down the backside of the car. The leather seats had the same bright red. I was rewarded with an irish cream latte, which I sipped on like a little child while Vincent drove. Which, I may add he's a rather good driver. Fuck, he could totally Tokyo Drift around Pandemonium if he needed! He pulled up to a house near Purgatory’s Border, and his group of boys were waiting outside. A small suburban sector that blended with the one in Purgatorio. There was no special entrance, no big sign that said, “Welcome to Purgatorio.” It was just an visible line that everyone in Heltix just about knew. But the ones gathered outside, where gathered outside of a light blue suburban house. I assumed it to be one of their houses. I don't know where these guys were living, and if I don't know, then the better. Those who were outside were Benjamin Costner, Chayyliel Blackwell, and Barnibus Cohen. Benjamin was a Demon, I’m nearly certain he was the same species as Vincent. He was sporting a blue cardigan, white dress shirt, grey pants, two tone shoes, and a pentagram jewel string tie. He seemed deeply irritated about something, a cigarette trapped between his lips, blowing out small puffs of grey smoke. He also had a curious set of horns, three sets that continued to grow smaller as they went down the sides of his head. His tail had a calligraphy pen look to it with the slit that ran down the middle and stopped at the hole in the center of the arrow. His hair was raven black, and a spiked mess. I wondered if he had just gotten out of bed too. Chayyliel … Chayyliel looked like he was ready to go somewhere fancy. He wore two tone black and white shoes, light grey pants, dark grey suit vest, a white undershirt which was rolled up to his elbows. Black armbands were on his upper arms, and wore a soft blue bow. One would usually ask him what the occasion was, but Chayyliel simply just liked to be fancy. Down to the way he held himself, draping his wings over his shoulders like how Vincent does his blazers. The only thing I envied of the Fallen Angel was his hair; white with blue roots, pushed to the left, away from his horn on the left side, feathered and layered. Not to mention with the way he had it styled, it made it so fucking fluffy. It led to a rather embarrassing night where I got drunk cuddles with Chayyliel and nearly threw a fit because I wanted time with the floof.

Yeah, I like to get drunk with these guys… It's really fun! Terrible when you're sober.

Now, for the final member of the group for today is good old Barnibas. A beast of a man, an anthropomorphic bear that towered over any of us! Ranking in at 8 foot even! He towered over poor Chayyliel too, Chay was only 4’6” which made him the shortest of the group since Felix was only an inch taller. Benjamin was even taller than me, being 6’2”. Which, odd enough, has always pissed me off. I don't like being shorter or smaller than people! Barnibas, being an anthropomorphic bear, meant he had a snout, claws, and fur. The whole nine yards! But, he dresses like the rest of us though… white and black two-tone shoes, black pants, black suspenders, white button down, white gloves… But those gloves are made to be extra durable, so he doesn't prick anybody with his claws. Which is perfectly understandable, I used to have something similar.

Now, there was no way Barnibas would fit in anyone's car, and with how close the house was to Purgatory, we could all just walk.

“Mornin’.” I mumbled, following closely behind Vincent.

“Well, you aren’t the early bird are ya?” Chayyliel asked, half laughing. I barely had the energy to come with a comeback, I just slumped up against Vincent, and growled at the Fallen Angel.

“Devil, wake up. Come on.” Vincent grabbed me by the hand, and pulled me along as we all walked. They all chatted amongst themselves and whatnot. I just wanted to go back to bed, if anything snuggle up with Vincent so he couldn't wake me back up. But, we knew when we were getting close, when Barnibas winced. The city smelled like rot, since bodies were sometimes left so carelessly in the streets to rot. We all pitied the poor bear, but the rest of us could smell it from the house. Knowing how to dull one’s senses was a key thing to learn as Demon, Angel, or Fallen.

“Can I ask ya somethin’, Damien?”

I was a touch more alert and looked towards the speaker, Benjamin.

“Uhh, yeah.” I muttered, trying to take some control of the way I was walking from Vincent. I stood up straight, and instead of shuffling along like a zombie, I walked normally.

“Why Purgatory? Of all the places that you could expand your territory, why there?” He asked, crushing the stub of the cigarette under his heel.

“I've been thinking about it for a while. Plus, the violence… Everything has gotten so bad in Purgatorio. These people live in the eternal race war between Angels and Demons and that's not rig-”

“But the Angels and Demons who do this are so … twisted. I mean, have you ever heard of an Angel slaughtering humans?” Chayyliel interrupted. With a heavy sigh, I replied.

“Yes. How do you think I became a Demon?”

Both Chayyliel and Benjamin looked at eachother, before looking at me… Or Vincent.

“The story says you killed Angels!” Benjamin cried, “Vincent, did you know about this?”

“I knew nothing. Just the sin. Wrath,” He looked back at me from the corner of his eye, “But, you’ve peaked my interest. Why did you do it?”

“I was the Archangel of Death. My job was to send the virtuous to Heaven, and the sinful to Hell. Soon, I didn't understand why people that society had deemed as evil, were worthy of Heaven. Or why a 12 year old should be sent to Hell. Everytime I challenged God and his virtues, I was punished. Double time. No stopping, just one soul to the next. So I snapped. I started swinging the scythe in any direction I wanted… It was a bloodbath. I killed 27 people. Sent to Heaven, and I killed there. After that was a blur. The next thing I remember is laughing, ripping off my wings, snapping my halo in half, and jumping off the clouds of Heaven. With a shit eating grin across my face, laughing as hard as I could,” I looked up at two who were just wide-eyed with terror, “Which do you like better? The testimony? Or the legends?”

“Jesus Christ you're fucked up.” Benjamin muttered. I could only laugh.

“Said to the man who declared war,” I said with a shit eating grin as we approached the border, “Okay, what’s the game plan, boys?”

“We. Are going to help Felix move to the Manor. You do what you want.” Barnibas said, speaking with a very thick Russian accent. It was actually hard to understand him sometimes, but you had to know him, hear it for such a long time that it became easier to understand.

“I'm going with them. Don't kill anyone, don't do anything stupid.” Vincent added.

“You do realize, I'm _your_ boss! _You_ don’t-”

“I don't babysit you? You do realize that 90% of the time you act like a child who does _what_ you want _when_ you want! The other 10% is-”

“Murderous psychopath.” The trio said in unison, nodding in agreement. I chuckled for a moment, and took a sip of my coffee.

“Fine. You all have your fun. Say hello to the little kitten for me.” I called over my shoulder before heading off. The first place I went to was Cynthia’s Apothecary. Sinder was the only medic we had on hand, even with her skills as a surgeon. But, Cynthia… Cynthia was amazing. She has a very impressive medical background, being a surgeon of all things! Only to be unfortunately fired because her shedding feathers would cause problems during surgeries. And, she has a very strict rule against mixing magic and medicine. Something that the doctors of Purgatorio want to do ever so badly. But have been prohibited by law. Cynthia now runs a small shop that sells materials for potions, and is often convicted for being a witch because of it. Which, one could nearly confirm. The crow was rather skilled at magic, using it to help her in everyday life, but still obeys her rule of no magic for medical purposes whatsoever.

She's decent at charms and heavy duty spells are used for protection and defense. Her spells are mostly defense, and has only _one_ offense spell. Taught to her by an Angel no less… A spell simply referred to as, "Ironwing." In which one takes their feathers and hardens them to the point of steel with whatever magic they possess. Cynthia will specifically shed the Ironwing feathers to use as decorative tools -- after dulling edges of course -- or to use as weapons, specifically knives or kuni. I knocked on the door, and the little bird answered. The building was a cute little corner shop, which was far larger than it appeared to be. There was a sign hanging above the door that read simply as, “Cynthia’s Apothecary,” written in a fancy black cursive on a wooden board. It seemed like it happened to be in the same style as her shop. In an early England style, talking about the 1300's type thing. Bright blue eyes looked up at me, and a frown took her face. I guess emotes were kinda hard to display with a beak, so I was grateful that she had learned to express with body language and using those eyes.

“Damien Morningstar. What can I do you for?” She asked, folding her arms across her chest. Like Barnibas, she was a, “true anthro,” having feathers that covered her from head to toe, beak, and the feathers on her arms looked much like wings. And she could even fly with them! But, they were hands at the same time, as some of her primaries flexed and looked like hands. She wore any color other than black, as she rather disliked her clothes blending in with her feathers. Today it was black shoes, grey yoga pants, and a blood red tank top.

“I’ve started a little… Fight. For Purgatorio. You may wanna get the fuck out of this shithole.” I smirked, as she shook her head. 

“This _shithole_ _._ Is my home. And if I have to fight you myself if-”   
“The Angel wants Purgatorio. I'm sure you know of his, “Angels Only,” rule. Everything without a halo and wings in this city will be slaughtered like sheep. I'm fighting so they can be safe. Hopefully put an end to the race war that takes place here. Purgatorio has suffered enough. It's time someone did something about it,” When I turned my attention back to the crow, she was hugging herself and she was nearly shaking, crying? Cold? What was wrong? “Cynthia?”

“Thank you,” She muttered under her breath, “For finally doing something about it. Wh … what do you want me to do to help?”

“Spread the word. Try to get people to evacuate. Move them to either Pandemonium or Whitehaven. I know some of them aren’t gonna want to go to the so-called, “Dark Heart of Heltix.” Or whatever bad name they’ve got for Pandemonium. Just… Get them to move. I want as few people as possible in the crossfire. You think you-”

I was crushed into a hug, the little crow hugging me as tightly as she could. It melted my heart to look down and see her little tail wagging just a little bit. But she was still shaking.

“Thank you Damien, a hundred times over. Thank you…” It sounded like the poor thing was gonna start sobbing. So I tried to hug back, but she had my arms pinned down.

“Why are you shaking?” I asked softly, as she finally let go, wiping at her eyes.

“I'm just… So happy. There’s gonna be a day where kids could play in the streets, where people can sleep soundly knowing they’re safe. Where people can go to the hospital, and not me. Because either they can’t afford it, or the hospital is destroyed. Where…” She sighed, hugging herself now, “Where the city can flourish again!”

She truly was the heart and soul of Purgatorio. I smiled, and nuggied her gently, knowing the feathers on the top of her head did act like hair, and she hated the way they shed so often.

“So run along, little birdy. Spread the good gospel.” I said, before turning on my heel to wave, bid my goodbye, and head off to another part of the city. I headed to bars, and got up on the stage, most of the time forcibly, and made a similar announcement to people there. The overwhelming praise I got was … Odd. I got nothing but joy and thank you’s from those of anthropomorphic backgrounds. I got distaste from Angels, who felt the city as theirs. Demons roared with joy, and saw Purgatorio as a way for Demons to claim it, and do whatever they wanted to the city. I got many anthro’s who pledged their allegiance to fight, and some started to evacuate, spreading the gospel as they did. Most Angels simply up and left, heading back to Paradicio to tell Abel of what terrible things that the Demon was doing. Fallen Angels needed a touch of guidance. As most viewed that they had a choice on who to side with. Most knew siding with Angels would be terrible, as even most Angels detested Fallens, and Fallens were almost forced to live in some sort of underground. If they lined with Demonkind, they would forever be viewed as violent, dangerous creatures, not to mention, give all Fallen’s a bad rep. So, I pointed out a lovely third option. For them to fight for themselves. If Purgatorio was the only place where they felt like they could be themselves, then they should fight for it. If Purgatorio was where they lived, and where they made friends so close that they were family, they should fight.

Least to say, I had a rather large portion of Purgatorio on my side by the end of the day.

I was walking back to the car, when I saw Vincent waving goodbye to the boys, with little Felix standing next to him. He, unlike Barnibas, was just your run of the mill anthro. Sporting the ears and tail, both of which being black as night. He wore an outfit similar to Barnibas’s. Sporting a pair of two-tone shoes, grey pants with two buttons in the front, with a chain snakes from his front pocket to his back pocket, white button down tucked into his pants, and rolled up to his elbows. A black bow, black suspenders, and white gloves.

“We givin him a ride home?”

The two jumped, and whirled around to face me. But, Vincent pushed Felix behind him, and seemed ready to attack until he realized it was me.

“Oh Devil! You scared me! But.. yeah. We’re giving Felix a ride to the manor,” Vincent replied, “We got his room set up and everything, and we’ve assured him that he’ll be far from the battlefield in Morningstar Manor, but he's scared of … the others.”

“You have no one to fear. Other than the Assassin of Hell. But, I’m pretty sure she’s just hiding out here on Earth. Low profile. Where is his room?” I explained, I knew that the Neko didn't like me, if anything he feared me. A few bad instances where I had jumped to his rescue on certain things had led to rather bloody messes. He was grateful I had saved him, but the mess I had made was … scarring to him. But, it wasn't entirely fear. There was respect somewhere in there.

“Next to Saeko’s,” Vincent replied, “Get in the car you two, don't wanna deal with Purgatorio at night.”

I headed into the car, claiming shotgun as Felix sat in the backseat.

“Next to Saeko? Perfect! No safer place in the world!” I exclaimed as Vincent brought the car to life with a flick of his wrist, and guided it out onto the street.

“W-why?” Felix asked softly, a small quiver to his voice.

“Saeko is my adoptive mother. If you ask her nicely, she can either guard the door, or place spells on your room that make it where nobody can enter. She can turn that room into the safest place on the planet if you wish.” I looked over my shoulder to see Felix softly smiling, a rare thing for the Neko to do.

“Thank you, Damien.” He muttered.

“Yeah, you were the one who suggested we get Felix out of there!” Vincent added, smiling, “Once I show him around, what are you off to do. We’ve spent all day in Purgatorio. I was thinking about-”

“Call me crazy, but I’ll be headed back. I saw a lot of fishy stuff that I wanna check out.” I explained, facing forward in my seat. Only for Felix to tap me on the shoulder.

“What are you checking out?” He asked, worry making his voice quiver.

“A few clubs I visited earlier today. It seemed the talent was rushed off stage when I c-”

“Find them. Jukebox and his Guardian. People will know what you're talking about if you mention a person named Jukebox.” Felix said, his voice holding a small edge to it. The rest of the ride was in silence, as Vincent stopped by some fast food place to grab him and Felix some burgers, but I didn't understand why Vincent ate. As Demons we don't need to eat, unless your sin was gluttony. But most Demons do it to simply blend in. But, they waited until they got home to eat. Vincent offered his car, which was odd enough. The car was his baby, and even in moments where it was an emergency, and his car would be what we needed, he would stop me. Fuck, one time he almost faught me over the beauty! I respectfully denied, and simply teleported to the border. The streets were deadly quiet, and rumor was that Purgatorio was a ghost town at night. As vengeful spirits that wanted revenge for their deaths, or searching for their children could be seen at this time of night. But, they were always there. Mortals just can't see them until the witching hour. One stayed out of my line of sight, but still spoke to me.

_“Are the rumors true? You're fighting for us?”_

My body felt cold, and I watched my breath turn into vapor in front of me. Classic spirit stuff. The spirit sounded female, and almost excited when she spoke of the war. I smiled, and nodded.

“It's about time the people got to sleep easy. And some of you get revenge.” I replied, as I heard the spirit start to giggle joyously. Even with her cold grasp on me, it warmed my heart.

_“Thank you. We wish you luck!”_

And with that, she was gone.

I wondered if she was able to pass on, or if her telling the news to others would let them pass on. To know the city would breathe life once more, that it would thrive again, but pushed the thought aside as I headed to one of the pubs, keeping my head low, and fedora pulled downward. Everybody knows this ugly mug of mine, I had to hide it one way or another.

The pub was emptying, but there was a practice of sorts happening on the stage, two being commanded by a Demon standing near the edge of the stage. The one up front was an Angel, but their status was complicated. Fallen Angels always had black wings, but the Angel on the stage had white wings speckled with black. Repented. Meaning that they had redeemed themselves in God’s eyes. But not Angelkind. There was no inbetween, just Sinner or Saint. And, unfortunately the Angel on the stage was exactly that. The inbetween. They wore a white crop top, a black leather jacket, black, ripped skinny jeans, and black combat boots with orange soles. The Angel only had one wing, the left one, the right appeared to be missing. They had long blue, wavy hair that came down to the ass, which was currently pulled back into a ponytail. The other couldn't be seen behind them as they towered over their tiny companion, and it was obvious that this was the Guardian that Felix mentioned. There were scars on their hands and any limb that was visible. Especially with how violent the Demon at the stage was getting, it was obvious that the Angel had been abused, throwing themselves in the line of fire to protect their friend.

I slowly walked up to the stage, and told the Demon to take a chill pill, only to be roughly pushed away.

“I don't need someone to tell me how to organize slaves. Now! Let him go!” The Demon roared, turning to the Angel.

“No! You're just gonn-”

“Slaves?” I asked, “Do you not know of the rules here in Heltix? It's a rule across the state! The law here states that all members of the Supernatural are safe here. And if hunters, or their summoners cross the border with ill will? Are to be executed. No matter _what_ you are, you're allowed to live as you wish! Fuck, isnt that why Purgatorio is headed into war? Because of the thousands that will die if the Angel wins! Heh, our kind included. So, knock it off and leave them alone. Or else-”

“Or else? What's a small fry like you gonna do to a Demon like me?” Was the smug reply. I smirked, and lifted my brim just enough to let him see my face, and before he could backpedal, beg for his life, I replied.

“Make your life a living nightmare.”

Before he could scream, I bopped him on the top of the head. I watched as the ground opened up, and swallowed him whole. I smirked, listening to the cut off scream, and the panic I had caused in the pub, I looked up to the Angel and motioned for them to follow. When we were far enough from the pub, I heard a robotic voice.

“O-Ollie? What’s happening?” The small voice asked, static making it hard to hear.

“A Demon helped us. Umm, thank you Mr.-”

“Oh! The name’s Damien Morningstar.” I replied, not even looking over my shoulder. I expected them to run at the mere mention of my name. But, it never happened.

“You're the one fighting for Purgatorio’s freedom. Right?” Ollie asked, sounding far less scared, “Thank you. We’d fight with you, but neither of us are in fighting condition.”

“How so? You need a doctor?” Was my inquiry. But, my question was answered with a crackle of robotic coughing, that was filled with static. That is when Ollie showed me their robotic friend. His head was circular, with a black screen covering his face. Like … a toons. He had coppery orange hair that was a hot mess at the moment, messy, dirty, and tangled. His entire body was dull white from all the dirt and grime collected. He wore torn small brown boots, and no clothes. Not really a problem for him, he didn't have the equipment, if you know what I mean. On his right arm a panel of his skin was missing, showing fraying chords, and a black piston, that I assumed to be a part of his skeleton. Wrapped around his middle were heavy, dirty bandages that were practically stiff as stone was wrapped around his middle. Over where anyone's heart seemed to be an ink black blood, congealing in his bandages. The small droid also sported a Demon's tail, the skin of which seemed to be ripped off, showing that black skeleton again, and red and blue wires. The same effect was up at his neck too, but only his chest was bandaged. Odd. His left eye was a bright, shining blue, while the other glitched madly, desperately trying to make the same shape as the other eye, but also glitched so many colors all at once. It's like someone punched a T.V. screen. 

“Oh, a mechanic,” I mumbled, “Ollie, how fast can you move?”

“I cant fly,” Was their reply, “But I can run pretty damn fast. Why?”

I picked up the pale droid bridal style, and he was heavier than he looked for being a 3 foot tall robot.

“Keep up,” Was all I said, as I broke into a dead sprint. Ollie easily kept up, as we both ran to the Manor. I had a buddy who could help or at least try to patch up the droid. Even though running as fast as we both could, it would take a little bit until we reached the manor, “What's your name kiddo?”

“Axel. That's my f-freind Ollie. T-use th-they/them pro-pronouns.” He mumbled, the static making it where he was so hard to hear.

“Easy. How long do you have?” I asked softly.

“28 minuets. S-sorry Ollie. I did-didn’t want to tell y-you.” For a moment, he went completely limp in my arms. The feeling of dread wrapped around my neck, but, his voice sounded, and his eyes no longer displayed on the black screen, “Low battery mode engaged. 34 minuets now.”

There was a sigh of relief from Ollie, but I could tell that he didn't like that Axel had kept secrets. Especially with him so close to knocking on death's door.

“Tell me about yourself, Axel. What's your story?” I asked, anything to keep him talking, the sound of his voice would let Ollie know that the droid was still amongst the living. With a shaking breath, he began his tale.

His Creator, a despicable (Axel's words, not mine) man by the name of Oliver Smith, was once a happy, joyous man, with a beautiful wife, Sammantha Smith. With the way the work schedule went, Sammantha would go to work at night when Oliver came home, and one night, whilst walking to work, she was killed. Well, more accurately, raped, then killed.

This left Oliver a broken man, and was trying to keep it together for his six year old son, Alexander. Or, as his nickname was, "Alex." But, greif dug in deep two months later. They had spent the day at the grandparents house, trying to give dear old dad a break and distract Alexander from his father's pain.

When they had finally begun the drive home, it was late, Oliver was struggling not to doze off at the wheel, and a drunk driver slammed into the car. It was thrown off the highway, and down the cliff. By the time, Oliver had freed himself and turned his attention to his Alex, the poor child had already passed on, and bleed out thanks to a blow to the head. The most Oliver had endured was a broken arm, which once healed, he returned to work.

Oliver worked as an animator, and made a character for his son. He named it, “Axel,” and when his co-workers asked why, the grief-stricken animator told them it was an anagram for his son’s nickname, “Alex.” Not that much of an anagram if you ask me. Little Alex was obsessed with older cartoons, most of which were dead and gone by his time. But, his dad managed to save a few. Alex even made a plastic Demon’s tail that he always wore, and loved robots. He wanted to either be an engineer, or an animator like dear old dad. So, when Axel was created on paper, he was depicted as a three-foot-tall robot with a circular head, and a pitch black screen that took up the area that was its face. His hair was almost toothpaste shaped, and resembled a pompadour. It was a bright, fiery red, just like Alex’s. An antenna stuck out from the top of his head, starting at his hairline, and the light on the end was to be a bright blue. He wore white gloves, a white bow which stuck out against his dark grey, almost black skin, and a pair of black boots.

Which was quite strange for his description now. His skin was white, pale, like he was sick. Not to mention various breaks and bandages. But, Oliver’s design was the perfect blend of robot and cartoon. If Alexander had ever seen Axel’s design, he would have fallen in love with it. I was told that the animators had said he was fun to animate him as a silent character, displaying his expressions using body language and his blue glowing eyes. When he was surprised a large exclamation mark would appear, or when he was confused a question mark would come across his screen. Now since his son always wore that tail he made himself, he included a Demon’s tail as a way to hide Axel’s plug. A few more months went by, and he attempted to build Axel.

But, a change was made, upon Oliver’s discovery of the use of a twisted machine that relied on the delicate balance between magic and science. With this machine, he made Axel a heart using the infernal device, since Oliver had believed that a heart would make his robot more human. So on the right side of his chest was a heart shaped panel of glass, showing the bot’s glowing blue heart. And Axel was alive!

Not even a year later, Oliver was diagnosed with cancer. Of the heart. Even with all the deaths around him, the death of his wife and son, the man rejected it, heavily. But, unlike the great Joey Drew who looked to the Ink Machine for salvation, he looked to Axel. Who had a perfectly beating heart.

He ripped it out, left Axel for dead, and continues to live with Axel's heart hammering away in his chest.

I got home with Axel, Ollie, and 19 minutes on Axel's ticking clock. I kicked down the garage door, and found my good friend Toby, working on an old car. A project of theirs. They jumped when the door hit the ground, but spoke ever so calmly.

"Hey Damien, what can I do for-"

_“Save him!”_

The Fire Demon nearly jumped out of their skin, glancing at the robot I held out in my arms. Toby only had one eye, ther left being black, the right covered by a large, black X. Messy, black, spiky hair hung in about every direction, slick with oil, and other fluids. White tank and blue jeans were also splattered with car blood.

“Damien, I work with cars! Not robots!” Toby exclaimed, watching as I pushed car parts and bottles of fluids off the table, “Stop! Some of those are stupid expensive!”

I gently placed the droid on the table, and stared the Fire Demon down. I wanted to scream, shout…

“Toby, I don't wanna start an argument about how _life_ is the most precious thing on this planet. This kids clock is ticking! Death is _knocking_ _!_ ” I roared, moving to take off the bandages when a female voice began to emit from the droid.

_“Hello! I am Cortana! A system designed to keep track of Axel’s health. Please state your intentions or an electrical shock will be administered.”_

“She j-just wants to help. P-pl-please list-ten to what Cortana ha-has to say.” Axel said, the static growing much louder, and now a glitch was added into the poor kids voice. I glanced over my shoulder at Ollie, who was staring at the robot with wide, scared eyes.

“I intend to help. To bring Axel to full health.” I stated calmly. Toby was still scrambling to pick up bottles, cursing under their breath.

_“Low battery, Plug located on the end of the tail.”_

Before I could even reach for it, there was a very loud beep from Axel, and a battery appeared on the screen, and a small percentage in the middle. Toby popped up and looked down at the droid.

“Plugged in. I also intend to help. No zaps please,” Toby explained, glancing up at me before the droid, “Next step?”

_“The cardiovascular system of this model runs on ink. Ink to this model needs to be resupplied.”_

“There’s some ink here in the garage, right? Go get the biggest container you can,” I calmly commanded. Toby did as I asked, running at breakneck speeds, “May I remove the bandages?”

“C-care-ful.” Axel stuttered, in a strained voice, like he was trying to hold back … tears? Strange for a robot that cannot physically cry. I drew my claws forth with a simple thought, and gently used my claws to slice off the bandages. Soaked, and hardened with ink, and once removed revealed a hole in his chest. A heart-shaped hole, with edges that had been stained black with ink, and there was nothing … just a black, empty, hole, “Cortana? Ca-an you ex-explain?”

_“Of course! What you see missing is the heart. A glowing blue heart created and stolen by Oliver Smith.”_

Oh. Right.

“What does … Did it do?” I asked, walking to one of my favorite cars and popping open the trunk. There was a robbery of the assassins, some of their finest gold coins and gems. Why? Because I'm secretly a magpie who likes shiny things. However, the more badass answer is I'm collecting my dragon’s hoard of gold. So, we’ll go with that one. I selected a large ruby, and returned to the droid.

_“Same as yours. Pumps. Circulates.”_

“Don't have a heart.” I simply replied as I pressed a flat side of the jem to the hole. It made a perfect imprint of the size of the heart thanks to the ink that clung to the edge. A tracer to cut out. Toby returned with the ink, and poured it into the heart-shaped hole. Cortana went on to explain that everything else could be repaired by Axel, and a temporary patch would be needed over his heart to prevent any more ink from spilling forth. Which Toby remedied with duct tape. However, they went to relocate Axel, and there was a crackle of electricity, like what you might hear from a taser, and the Fire Demon shook semi-violently. Now, a dark male voice emitted from the droid this time. It had a dark effervescence to it, and almost sounded … Demonic.

_“That was a warning shot. The next will be lethal. Do not move the droid while he is in critical condition.”_

Pissed, Toby put their equipment away, still randomly spazzing. They made the comment that I should have brought the robot to our home, before telling me a quiet, “Good night.” Before leaving, I told Axel, Cortana, and the Demon voice goodnight, and headed off to my bedroom. But was stopped by Ollie.

“Will he… be okay?” Ollie softly asked, “Oh! And could I have a place to stay?”

“Of course. Stay as long as you need.” I lead them down to the left wing, and into a guest room. I’d promised money for clean clothes, and told them they could use the shower attached to the bedroom if they’d like. I thought about sending Ollie out with Nikkiye to go shopping, but I didn't need Nikkiye trying to pry into Ollie’s personal life, or interrogating either of them. More than the abuse from that Demon had happened to them, and digging into someone's truma like that without their trust? It would end badly for everyone. Maybe I could send in Vincent? But, I needed him for the war, and things were going rather well. Made me suspect that the Angel wasn't going to put up a fight, as it seemed nobody knew about the impending war that was hanging over their heads. I pushed the thought aside and headed up to my room. It had been a long day and I wanted to finally sleep.

But, Vincent was there. Peacefully snoozing in my bed.

“Vincent what the fuck are you doing?” I asked, loud enough to wake the Demon. He jumped to life, and began looking around as he rubbed at his tired eyes. But, when his gaze fell upon me, he froze like a deer in the headlights.

“I can explain.” He muttered softly, pulling one of the pillows close to his chest. Like it would protect him from me.

“Please do. There really isn't an excuse for you to be in my bed right now.” I snapped, beginning to tap my foot in irritation. Vincent sat upright, holding the pillow tightly, and took a deep breath before he spoke.

“Sometimes… when you go out on long missions, or trips. I’ll steal a pillow or two from your bed. Or just fall asleep here. Ya know… I miss ya sometimes, Dev.” I couldn't help it, what Vincent said warmed my heart just a little bit. Knowing that to somebody … I matter. I rolled my eyes, and pointed at the pillow he was clutching to his chest.

“Take that one with you, is it the … scent? That helps? What does it smell like anyway?” I asked, as Vincent rose from the bed. I went about the room, pulling off my blazer and tie. Draping the Blazer on the back of the door, and putting my tie in the closet.

“Yeah. The smell. It varies from day to day depending on what you’ve been up too. But the main three scents I pick up from your pillows are dried blood, campfire, and green apple. Where do-”

“The campfire?” I asked, taking off my shoes and putting them in the cubby in my closet, “It's the cigarettes that Cyanide makes. The smell of campfire is a pleasant side effect. Now, run along, or get my medicine from Cyanide.”

Vincent did as he was told, and I was about to crawl into bed, as he returned with a vial of the medicine.

“Damien, this is the tranquilizer… Why do you ne-”

“I’ve been on this Earth for far too long, Vincent. Some of the things I’ve seen … still haunt me. Mortals can be surprising sometimes… What they’re willing to do to each other. Just because one is different. With the way this world is coming to… They better hurry up and accept those of Heltix. Because if they have problems with anyone who is anything but straight and white? Then they’re _definitely_ going to have issues with both Angel and Demonkind, especially religious zealots. But, don't worry your pretty little head, Vincent. Just write it off as, “Damien’s a little twisted.” Anyway, goodnight, Vinny.” I drowned the medicine and flopped into bed. I heard Vincent mutter a small goodnight, as I fell into the sweet embrace of sleep.

_The great black void stretched out in all directions. I felt like a droplet of white in an endless sea of black. I tried to impose my will over the darkness, but nothing happened. It remained exactly that. Darkness. I sighed, watching my breath fog up in front of me. I already knew what this all meant. I just didn't want to accept it._

_“What do you want from me, Serpent?” I softly asked, sitting down on the floor of the darkness. I could feel something standing behind me. Large clawed hands rested on my shoulders, and I heard a growl-like purr in my ear._

_“It's been so long, Damy. You can’t bear to say, “Hello,” to an old friend?” He darkly chuckled as he rose to his full height, and I couldn’t see what he was doing, but assumed he started circling me, “So, are you going to tell Vincent about me?”_

_“He doesn't need to know about you.” I snapped, only to have his laughter nearly cut me off. Dark, gravely, and layered. A thousand voices speaking at once._

_“Really? Because I_ know _it's not the trauma that keeps you up at night.” He hissed the word, “trauma,” between his fangs. Yes, it was there. It existed. But none of it compared to him. Well, except for the abusive Ex._

_“You heard that?” I softly asked, trying not to let the panic bubble forth. I kept the monster in the backseat so I could drive. I was certain his cage was strong, that there was nothing he or I had done to change that. He chuckled again, and I heard joints pop as he crouched in front of me._

_“I hear everything, Damy. Did you forget?” I didn't look up at him, it didn't matter with the darkness he let the Dreamscape swallow him in._

_“No,” I muttered, “Now, what do you want? Certainly not to talk if you’ve claimed the Dreamscape like this.”_

_“Ah, smart little Damien. Always straight to the point… I want a piece of the action. I wish to fight in the war.” The monster purred, I could feel his hot breath across the back of my neck._

_“Why? The citizens of Purgatorio have nothing to do with you.” I replied._

_“Something your mother said, “You forget yourself Damien. You could flatten this city within_ days. _”” He chuckled, watching me shiver. I hated the way he did that. Whenever he would quote someone, he would use their voice. To hear Saeko’s voice fall from his lips? It was unnerving._

_“I'm not flattening the city.” I hissed, trying to look up at him in the darkness._

_“I know,” His voice came from behind me this time, “But, what I want is to remind the Angel of what you can do. Of what_ I _can do. Doesn't that sound fair to you?”_

_“Fine. But, we need rules.” I hissed._

_“But of course. What are your rules, Damy?” Was his purred reply._

_“Angels only. And those who are... Friends? You touch them, I will_ never _let you out again. Am I understood?”_

_“Yes, Damien.”_

When I awoke the next morning, I immediately checked the time and date. Sometimes when me and that Serpent talked in the Dreamscape, he would use that as a distraction and slip out into the world. Not to mention, the Dreamscape moved far faster than the real world. A day in the Dreamscape could be a week in the real world. The 8 hours of sleep you get a night, could be but 10 minutes in the Dreamscape. I don't know the exact math, but still… It's something I worry about when I talk to the Serpent.

I rose out of bed, got dressed, wanting to wear comfortable clothes today. I put on a sky blue knit long sleeve sweater, black pants, and dark grey converse. I headed down to the garage, and found that Toby had taken the ruby, and placed it in Axel’s chest. Even cutting it into a heart. Axel was fully repaired, but he was wrapping up where his previous wounds were with bandages that Toby obviously must have given him.

“How ya feelin’ kiddo?” I asked, putting my hands in my pockets, and watching the droid with mild interest.

“Fully repaired! But, I feel a little off. The bandages usually help. Oh! And, Toby said that you were the one who chose the new heart.” He pointed to it, and it looked like there was liquid within the jem. Jet black, and it swayed with the smallest movement. I hoped that Toby had understood my idea of giving the robot the heart, and putting not only ink, but a drop of my blood within it. Unless I was wrong about how enchanting gems go, the effect should be that he can now manipulate Ink to his will. Not to mention have the basic powers of a Demon. The kid also reeked of isopropyl alcohol. I assumed that he had used it to clean himself, since his skin was now white as paper. Was it skin? Or was it metal?

“Yeah! We also did some enchantments on it. Hopefully you’ll be able to use magic! The end goal here is to teach you how to use it so you can kinda pump your blood yourself. I mean… Ink.” I thought it was odd that a _robot_ ran on _ink_ _._ But, the man who created him was unstable. So, I guess it made sense. But his visible eye shifted to a sunshine yellow when I mentioned magic.

“Wow! You’re … You’ve done so much for me. How can I repay you?” His voice turned soft and his eyes slowly returned back to their sky blue.

“Please. Don't. I just wanna get you and Ollie back on your feet,” I replied, watching as the droid pulled on black boots, and a light blue hoodie. Both must have been given by Toby. I held out my hand to the small droid and smiled softly, “Let’s go find them. This manor is rather large.”

He took my hand, and I led the tiny droid through the manor, and after looking him over, I tried to guess his height. With me an inch away from 6 foot, and with him only coming up to my hip, I had to guess the droid was somewhere around 3 feet tall. I remember being so small when I was younger, and I hated every moment of it. I didn't like being so small. I felt like small was for the weak. I wondered if the droid felt the same way I led him to the left wing.

“I’ve heard lots about you, Mr. Morningstar,” He began, “A grandmaster of Demonic magic, if the stories are true.”

“It's just Damien, where did you hear that?” I asked, surprised that the childish tone was gone from his voice, and if anything his tone was even, flat, and serious.

“Around. I live in Purgatorio for fuck’s sake,” He muttered, looking up at me with tired eyes, “Is it true?”

“If you want to get into the technicalities, yes. What makes you-”

“Wanted to know the skill of the teacher. I assume you're gonna be… It's rude of me to assume,” He stopped, and turned his gaze to the floor, “You’ll have to give me a tour of this place! It's huge!”

“This place… Has been my home for many years. This is Morningstar Manor. But, it can be your home too. A safe place. Where you don't have to sell yourself just for a couple bucks. A safe place to sleep. You don't have to worry about anyone within these walls hurting you. You don't have too, but if you do leave, know that the offer stays open. There will always be a room at Morningstar Manor for you.” I looked down to the droid who’s sky blue eyes had shifted to a navy blue. His eyes had to be like Saeko’s, where they changed according to his mood. Each color had a certain mood.

“I'd like that. Thank you so much.” The navy blue slowly shifted through a thousand shades of green, and returned to a sunshine yellow. I didn't think much of it afterwards, and we found Ollie. Who was standing in front of their door, looking around. Like the poor Angel was confused.

“Axel! Are you okay!” Ollie cried, running up to the droid, and dropping to their knees so quickly that they still carried momentum and skidded across the carpet for a moment.

“I’m fine, full tank and full battery for the first time in a while. Not to mention they had enough shpare parts to patch me up,” He lifted the bandages over his eye to show another sky blue cartoonish, pie-cut eye, “Think of the bandages as scabs.”

Ollie clutched Axel close to their chest for a moment before letting him go.

“You scared me last night. Why didn't you tell me your clock was ticking?” Ollie softly asked, but I could feel the anger that they were so effortlessly hiding.

“I have issues. Trusting people is … hard.” He mumbled, avoiding the Angel’s gaze.

“What about _me_ ? After everything we’ve been through! Why can't you trust _me_!?” Ollie was nearly yelling, and was about to reach for the droid when I stepped between them. The sudden switch between soft and angry didn't surprise me, if anything I was waiting for it. Axel didn't have an answer for that question, and I think I know why. Having that heart stolen from him, and presumably, on the verge of death ever since it happened. Of course it was hard to talk about! It's like having a soldier talk about the war, and then explain how they saw a child screaming, “I’m sorry,” as they run up with a grenade affixed to their hands. It was traumatizing, and talking about it was more so sometimes. Those stories were hard to tell. Even to your trusted friends, your lover.

“I suggest you back down.” I growled between my fangs. Ollie rose to their feet, staring me down with an unnerving fire in their eyes.

“Let's go Axel. Thank you, sir fo-”

“I'm staying,” I looked down, and the droid was hiding behind me, almost holding onto my leg, “He offered me.”

“That offer extends to you, as well.” I said sternly, feeling the relationship between the two was borderline abusive. The two found solace in each other while enslaved. 

“No. I can't stay in a home where a _Demon_ is head of the household. Come on Axel.” Ollie’s cold tone made me wonder if it was something else.

“I'm staying,” Axel repeated, stronger this time, “Damien is-”

“ _Damien_ ? As in _Damien Morningstar_?” Ollie looked me over, the cold tone turning into a shakier one, “The crime lord? He’s the leader of this district! Fuck, he’s starting a war in Purg-”

“Because it is time someone did something about the race war. Would you rather the Angel take Purgatorio? If he does? He slaughters anything without wings and a halo. You would be spared, and your robot friend? He’d meet his end in a junkyard. So, tell me. What’s a worse fate for Purgatorio? Thousands of citizens to add to the body count? Vengeful spirits to add to the streets? Or a place, where one day, kids can play in the street. Where people can finally sleep, knowing that some bloodthirsty Demon or overly-righteous Angel won’t come crashing through the walls, and they won't die in the crossfire. I’ve evaluated the pieces. I know what I’m doing. And I’m not just a crime lord, I'm a grandmaster at black magic. The only one that exists in all of Demonkind, unfortunately. So, if you wanna pull him away from somewhere he wants to be, go ahead. But, if he fights you that's not my fault.” I stared at Ollie with a dead stare, and my arms across my chest. The Angel looked at Axel, and then up at me, and muttered a soft, “Goodbye, Ax.” Before stomping off, asking someone where the exit was along the way.

“Thanks,” Axel’s tone was flat as he stood beside me, and those navy blue eyes were back again, “I don't think they would hear you unless you showed evidence. They’re not gonna believe you until you win that war.”

“Tell me a little bit about Ollie, and I’ll show you around the manor.” Was my soft reply, offering him my hand again. There was a heavy sigh, but he began Ollie’s tale.

Ollie had been captive by those Demons for a while, and the one that I bopped back to Hell was not the only one, or even the ringleader. Their fun was abusing Ollie in any way they could, except rape. Ollie knew a skill that turned his wings to metal, and he would always attack them with those wings. But, as punishment for that, and trying to escape one night, they cut off one of his wings. Yes, it tried to come back, but everytime it could even show signs of coming back, the Demons would hack it off again. Ollie used the remaining wing as his metal shield, and they never tried to rape Ollie after that. He would always stand up for Axel when the droid told him that he was going to be, “leaving the mortal coil soon.” Ollie was afraid that one day that there would be a punishment too aggressive, that would put the nail in the coffin, and that would be the end of Axel. So, Ollie was the sole person who watched over the young droid, and that's when things began to change. The Demons discovered Axel had a knack for music, and was rather talented at it. So, they would bring him to clubs and force the droid to sing. If Axel didn't sing, he was whipped. Threatened to be turned to scrap. Ollie was always there. Standing between the whip and Axel. Something that I had walked in on last night, a rehearsal of sorts. But, something that always rubbed the bot wrong was that he was always treated like he was a kid. The body was deceiving, the way he looked was something he wanted to desperately change. Axel didn't know how old he was, so he went by a mental age, which he determined by attitude, views, and a number of other things. He determined his mental age was anywhere from 13 to 15. But, he did have his wiser moments which he didn't count, he chalked that up to being dependent on calculations, “a robot thing.” It was all very thought out, I think he was giving himself less credit than he deserved. Especially with being wary about me long before Ollie freaked out from hearing the simple name, “Damien Morningstar.” We ended our tour in the garden, and so did his story.

“Now, I’d hate to pry. I hate it when people do it to me, but… When you told Ollie that you had problems trusting people… I understand. Especially after something … traumatic. It's like asking a soldier to explain what they saw in a war-”

“And not expect blood,” Axel finished, looking over the garden. The black rose I had panted on a whim seemed to be doing fine, but then, who knows if Lilly had come to oversee the place lately. Or if she was staying away from the manor until the war blew over, “What happened to you? It's only fair. You know what happened to me.”

“My summoners are the descendants of my original family. They used me as a toy. They used to play this twisted game. Where they sent me and a werewolf out into the woods. And they would hunt us. With guns, not paintballs, not tranquilizers. Bullets. Everytime we were out there we ran for our lives, and something similar happened with me and the werewolf that happened to you and Ollie. The werewolf helped me out, escape. Sending me into the arms of a Kitsune who I now call, “mom.” He’s been missing ever since that night. Mom and I have been looking for him ever since,” I quietly explained, and saw the droid was attentive listening. The same way that I had just been, “Just… Have you heard of anyone named Cyrus Morningstar?”

“Yes.”

The reply sparked a dead hope in my chest, and before I could even ask the droid if he was joking, he continued on.

“A Fallen Angel was bragging about it. How she had stolen the pet of the legendary Damien Morningstar. It was back when you were more adamant about finding him… People knew you were looking for someone by that name, especially when Demons in suits would come into pubs and ask about him. But that Fallen made it sound like Cyrus was a pe-”

“That's my brother.” I hissed between my fangs, trying desperately to think of what Fallen would want Cyrus. But would be stupid enough to brag about it when people _knew_ I was looking for him! It had to be someone I had crossed, but I could only think of one Fallen that would want to do something like that. Who I had crossed so badly...

_Rachel Dreamflow._

My ex. My abuser. My tormenter. My wolf in sheep’s clothing.

“Your brother? Bound by blood?” Axel softly asked, he must have taken my body language as my rage directed towards him. But, it was so many things at once. None of it directed at him. I chuckled, and tried to ground myself in the swirling chaos my mind had become.

“We wish. There was thought of a blood pact. Cutting open our palms and pressing it together. But, he thought we shouldn't. We wouldn't know what mixing our bloods could lead to. Especially with me as a Demon. A-anyway. When did you last hear of that name?” I asked, the information in the droid's brain was the closest lead I had gotten on Cyrus ever since the trail went cold, and couldn't be followed into Foxhedge.

“When I first came to Heltix. 10 years ago.”

_He’s alive._

He shrank the number. From 87, to 10. Cyrus… He still walked this Earth with the rest of us. I knelt down, and brought the droid into a tight hug.

“Thank you,” I whispered, before letting him go. But remained crouched, “That’s the first lead I’ve had in 87 years. You have no idea…”

There was a tug at those eyes of his, was he trying to smile? That screen wasn’t displaying any mouth.. They switched through the green again, and that sunshine yellow was back again.

“Whatever I can do to help.” Was his reply, and we headed back inside. I showed him to the room that Ollie had been staying in, and told him this would be his room. He smiled and said he’d show me a trick, and was asked to be lifted up. I put the heavy droid up on my shoulders, and he put a rather cute chibi sticker of himself on the door. I went to touch it but my hand phased through it. Axel explained that it was a power he had. To create holograms that looked hyper-realistic at his will! But, this of course, drained a small amount of power. So he couldn't do it alot, unless he wanted to be in low-power mode for the rest of the day. I helped Axel set up in his room, once the droid was cozy, I left him be. I walked into the kitchen to make coffee, and to my luck, found Saeko.

“Mom! I've got a lead!” I cried as I trotted up to her. She dropped her plate of toast, which promptly shattered the moment it hit the ground. Ocean blue eyes stared at me, wide with shock.

“On… Cyrus?” She softly asked, “Are you certain it's-”

“A Fallen Angel was bragging about how they caught my, “pet.” One that suspiciously has the same name. Now, I’m trying to think of what Angel would want anything to do with me or Cyrus and only one name comes to mind.” The words came so fast, I couldn't stop babbling. But, the mention of the Fallen made scars sing with their phantom pain, I had to grab my upper arm to remind myself they had healed a long time ago. They weren’t bleeding again.

“Why would Rachel-”

“She was enlisted by the Morningstars to find their pets, and after discovering that they were killed by Cyrus and I, she tried to work out a number of deals with us, but they only worked out in her favor. One of which Cyrus works for the descendants of the Morningstars, the Winchesters, and I return to Hell to repent for my so-called, “crimes.” Cyrus doesn't like the Winchesters and he disagreed, and I laughed at her, telling Rachel if I told anyone in Hell what the Morningstars had done to me, they’d let me personally torture the Moringstar clan. What if Rachel just wants to get the job done? She is obsessed with returning to the Heavens. When that…” I started to hug myself, feeling that familiar darkness crawling from the recesses of the mind that it's usually forgotten in, “She doesn't belong in that place! Not with what she did to-”

“Shhh, Damien, I know,” Saeko pulled me into a hug, and rubbed small circles into my back, “Plus, if she _does_ have Cyrus? You can let your Demons out to play.”

“Death is too good for her, she needs to suffer!” I cried, breaking away from the hug and looking around for a brief moment. No one needed to see me like this. A warlord breaking down at the simple mention of his abusers name.

“We’ll make her suffer, Damien. I promise-”

“I need to… I need to breathe.” I muttered, before swiftly walking off. I was headed up to my office when I caught sight of Vincent. Please, God, not now. I was nearly running when I was in my study, grabbing my cinnamon whiskey.

“Dev?”

_Fuck!_

I slowly turned around, the bottle in my hand. Saeko didn't like it when I drank, especially when I was in the middle of a breakdown. Plus, as far as I knew, all Vinny knew is that I had trust issues. Not where they had spawned from.

“Devil, are you alright?” He softly asked, standing at the threshold. I cursed Saeko’s conditioning as a child, and slowly shook my head no, “Can I make it better?”

“No.” I whispered, popping the top off the bottle. I was about to take a swig when Vincent grabbed it, and put it down on the desk.

“How about talking about it? Instead of trying to drink the problems away?” He was so gentle, so kind. It made me feel bad for the almost primal need to run. To escape. But, you couldn't physically run from feelings anyway.

“It's been said and done. I got out. I'm done with her. It's just… She may have my brother and I don't know if-”

“Damien. You're spiraling. Start from the beginning.” Vincent commanded, taking a seat in one of the plush chairs in front of my desk. I sighed, and sat on the edge of it. I grabbed the bottle, and took a decent swig. The burn of the cinnamon was a good distraction, probably the closest I could get from physically running from the emotions.

“There was this … girl. We were a … on again off again thing. She was a Fallen. We obviously both had very different views on Heaven, Hell… All that shit. Especially with me… Being me. You know that part. During that relationship… We would occasionally get hot and heavy, but the other half of that relationship, wasn't fun. If I told her something that I remembered from my days as an Angel, she would tell me outright that I was wrong, and she would…” I took another swig as I pulled off my sweater. Which Vincent tried to stop, but seeing the scars on my arms and chest stopped him, “She would fight me. I loved her then. So I didn't fight her. I just kept screaming, “stop.” One day I had enough, I hit back. And that's when she gave me these,” I traced the scars, they still looked like defensive wounds, like I had tried to fight her off, “She used Angel Feathers. So, even if I wanted to heal them, I can't. After that I essentially ran away… And burned that house down.”

I pulled my sweater back on, took another swig, and looked at Vincent. His eyes were wide with shock, and one of his hands was covering his mouth.

“Is it really all that shocking?” I softly asked.

“ _Yes_! The way you hold yourself, in a position of power, the way you're comfortable with your sexuality… I thought something like what Rachel had done to you would have changed that!” Vincent cried, gesturing towards me as he spoke, “But, it changed something, if not that.”

“Smart boy…” I muttered as I took another swig, “I can’t let people in. I can't trust anybody anymore. That's why… What happened, happened. Not to mention I’m fucking terrified of what will happen if I do. Will they tear down the walls I’ve slaved over to build? Will they leave me far more damaged than she did? That's why… Fuck, I wanted to tell you that I liked you a really fucking long time ago. But, those fears made me bottle it, but it away. Bury it and let it die.”

I chuckled as I took another swig, feeling oddly far calmer. Was it just talking about it? Or the alcohol that I was so eager to have in my system?

“I'm a trainwreck, aren’t I?” I softly asked, not even daring to look up at Vincent.

“Not a bigger one than I, if you can keep it together for this long? Without anybody knowing?” He said gently, “Then you’re either really good at burying and bottling, or you know how to deal with this stuff.”

“Burying and bottling. The thought of her, … it makes the scars… Hurt,” I gestured to my upper arm, the scars that I had showed him, “A weird, phantom pain of sorts.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

I smiled, there were so many things he could do to help. He could hunt her down, if what Axel said was true, that Rachel has Cyrus in her grasp. He could help me tear her limb from limb, torture her.

“Not yet. We have a war to win. We can deal with her after that. What do we need to do today?” I asked softly, capping the bottle, and tucking it away in the place it belongs.

“We can stop for tod-”

“It can _wait_ , Vincent. What do we need to do today?” I asked, almost tired. It was nice that Vincent was concerned about my mental health, but my mental health was far too broken to be saved. Plus, we have lives on the line right now, thousands of them. My mental health was far from my concerns. Vincent sighed, and averted his gaze, before meeting mine.

“A few errands to run. We need to talk to the H.P.D. warn them not to stop us. If they do, they need to be threatened otherwise. We need to make sure Maxwell also stays out of our way. But, he's pretty neutral, unless it's talking about Lady Blackwood. We could also go to Rosemere and ask for reinfor-”

“They’re not used to it. Seeing something so cute acting as an authority figure. Not to mention claiming he’s my right hand man.” I smirked, seeing his cheeks turning a soft pink when I said cute. It warmed my heart to know that I made him blush. Maybe it would..

“Psht- I'm not cute!” He cried, folding his arms across his chest, and turning his gaze to the floor. I gently grabbed hold of his jaw, and tilted his head up to look at me. My grip was far from forceful, a gentle hole that he could easily pull away from.

“I like to think otherwise,” I let go, and smirked, “Anyway, if you need me to just sit and look pretty, I will gladly do so.”

He squirmed in his seat, a small smile and the blush having darkened slightly. He got up, and grabbed me by the wrist, dragging me out of the study. He gave me a piece of gum, muttering something that I couldn't be smelling like alcohol. The rest of the time was spent in mostly silence. Him dragging me from one appointment to the next, all I had to do was sit and look scary. Which meant the typical angry scowl that was a default emotion around enemies and allies. But, when we would get in the car, he would sigh tiredly, pause for a moment before turning the car back on and driving us off to the next destination. At some point, we had time for lunch, so I sat behind the driver's seat.

“You're not driving. Plus, I want-”

“Please?” I asked, holding my hand out the window for the keys, “I just wanna take you somewhere special for lunch.”

There was that blush again, and he slowly let go of the keys, letting them fall into my hands.

“What’s with you being so sweet today?” He asked as he plopped into the passenger seat. I brought the car to life with a flick of my wrist, and gently guided it out into the road.

“I'm… Seeing something. Plus, I’m letting something that I tried to kill unbottle. Just… Don't mind me being weird.” I half explained, resisting the urge to put the pedal to the metal. It was a quick little thing, and my lead foot wanted to fall. Watch the world blur around Vincent and I.

“I'm having a little… a little trouble believing it. That you like me. Or did.” He muttered, his gaze focused out the window.

“It's do. Present tense, not past,” I snapped as I pulled up to a small cafe. It was french themed, and had some of the best french cuisine in all of Heltix. I occasionally wondered if it was because the owners were of French descent or from France, but that was the last thing on my mind. What I wanted was macaroons! This place had some of the best red velvet macarons, and were my favorite snack in this Hellhole, “Have you been to this place?

“No. What is it?” He asked as he trotted up to my side, I wanted to grab hold of his hand, and lead him inside. But decided against it.

“A little french cafe. They’ve got my favorite foods in Heltix, right here!” I headed up the steps and we took a seat in the far corner of the cafe. Vincent got himself a mimosa, and myself a box of the macaroons, promising to let him have some, “So, what else do we need to do today?”

He sighed, and stared at his phone, swiping through to find the information needed.

“Or do you need a break?” I softly asked, and his head snapped up almost so fast, I wondered if he hurt himself.

“No! Of course not! I can keep-”

“No need to push yourself, Vincent. If you need a break, take it.” I said softly, it's not like what we were doing wasn't important, it needed to be done, and I didn't know if we were on a time crunch or not, but Vincent seemed almost… Panicked.

“No! We need to get this all done, and then I won't have to do anything tomorrow and then I’ll be ready if some- mpfh!” He looked at me rather angrily when he found I shoved a macaroon in his mouth.

“One step at a time, Vinny. Eat first,” I said, softly grinning. He angrily munched, but his eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas. He tried to slowly eat the cookie, but nearly inhaled it like a vacuum before slowly reaching for another cookie. I bat his hand away and gave him a shit eating grin, “My cookies.”

He looked at the cookies, then up at me, and finally back at the cookies.

“I will fight you.” He muttered, his gaze remaining glued to the cookies.

“You think you can fight me and win? You may have trained with Nikkiye, and if, _only if_ _,_ you kept up on training you’d be able to hold a flame to me. But, if you haven’t… You’d only make a fool out of yourself. Over … _cookies_ _,_ ” I smirked when I saw Vincent still staring at the cookies, and grabbed him by the jaw. Tilting up his head to look at me, “There are far better things to fight for. A plate of macaroons is not worth it. Take two more, and I’ll box up the rest, mkay?”

I let go, and chuckled as he quickly snatched them. I did as I had said and put them in a box, before we went back to the grind. He briefly asked me why I kept grabbing him by his jaw, to which he got the simple reply, “Look at me when I’m talking to you.” But, really, it was an excuse to touch him, even for a moment. We were out all day, and it was nearly midnight by the time we got back home. 

I flopped onto the couch, and Vincent sat with me, taking up only the small corner as I had sprawled out, and taken up a large portion of the couch, tiredly staring at the T.V. It had been a rather long day, with all the running around and errands. I ran my hand through my hair, gently mussing it. Briefly massaging my own scalp. A technique I had once used to help me get to sleep

"Hey, Dev?" Vincnet asked softly, breaking the silence between us that was filled with gentle noise of the T.V.

"Hmm?" Was all I gave as I closed my eyes. Trying to rest them from the bright light.

"Can I talk to you? It's something-"

"You are right now, aren't cha?" When I looked at him, he seemed irritated at my joke, but a look of deep concern was written on his face, "What's wrong, Vinny?"

"N-nothing! It's just… Why did you have a crush on … me?" He asked, keeping his voice low. Like he didn't want others overhearing. Plus, I didn't know if this is something he wanted publicized. I sure didn't. I closed my eyes again and chuckled softly.

"Only fair. I asked what sparked it for you," There was a heavy sigh, before I continued, "I'm used to it by now. The way the world is cold, how it's sharp jaws will chew you up and spit you out. How it is unforgiving, and unfair. You, however, showed something far different. You were soft. You took care of me. Most people don't do that. They don't take the time to make sure I'm okay. You … you did. You took the time to stop and ask. You're sweet on me, and kind. Mostly when someone is sweet on me, they want something, or time with me between the sheets. You … You're doing it because you want to."

I paused, and slowly opened my eyes again, looking down at Vincent again. Who had been covering the bottom half of his face, what I had said was probably making him blush. Yet again, it warmed my heart to see him blush, and a small smirk curved my lips.

"Not to mention, you are one of the few." I muttered, my gaze flicking back to the television.

"What? One of the few … what?" Vincent asked, obviously not wanting to miss a single detail. He was nearly crawling towards me, scooting across the couch. For a moment the intrusive thoughts took over, and I could almost picture Vincent pinning me to the couch from where he sat. I shoved the thoughts down, and bit my tongue. Was it because I was tired that the intrusive, horny thoughts were trying to claim my mind? Or had I simply spent too much time with Vincent?

"One of the few who can help with those nasty panic attacks of mine. Whatever you want to call them," I muttered, "PTSD episode?"

He covered his mouth and fell back into the couch. Did he feel special? That the effect he had on me was a calming one? Oh, if he only knew... I couldn't help but to chuckle again.

"Goddamnit. Why do ya gotta be so fuckin cute all the time?" My balled fist pressed against my cheek unfurled, and covered my eyes with a small smile on my face.

"I'm cute?" Was the shaky inquiry. The only reply I gave was a small nod, as the smile grew. The simple mental image of Vincent being cute made me giddy. My hand fell from its place on my face as I patted my thigh.

"Can I get a cuddle? Or would that-"

Vincent almost immediately crawled into my lap, nuzzling into my chest. I tried my best to ward off the dirty thoughts, especially with his weight right here in my lap. I made the mental check to be a, “good boy,” as I wrapped my arms around his waist.

"Do you think… We could make it work?" Vincent softly asked, going after the elephant in the room.

"Well, there's a number of things we'd have to take int-"

"A, you're my boss, and not only would us being a thing make shit complicated. B, the job doesn't exactly follow the love life, or even a relationship between co-workers. C, we'd probably have to keep things secret because of the whole superhero thing. They could use me as bait, or lure you into a trap or-"

"You've been thinkin about this for quite some time. Haven't cha?" I muttered, letting one of my hands snaking up his spine, and reaching up to massage at his scalp as I played with his hair. Which I found to be a silky soft to the touch, and I desperately wanted to let my hands get tangled there.

"Mhm. Things I told myself to bury the feelings. To hopefully make it die." He mumbled, a faint purr in his chest. It tore at me, the pang of guilt in my chest. Knowing that he actively tried to kill his feelings for me. But, who am I to judge. I tried to do the same.

"Let's take it one step at a time. A, I can handle complicated things. Plus, it's been an on running joke with the boys that we're a thing. So, if you can handle it, everything's good. B, umm, yes it does. Before you were right hand I did a lot of sleeping around. And I mean _a lot._ Plus, we aren't some fancy company with rules about code of conduct and whatnot. So we don't have a rule against co-workers seeing each other. C, I can go secrets. Just between us. No telling the boy-"

"Hell no! I can't risk sensitive information like that! Especially with Theo being Abel’s right hand, and Chayyliel being a blabber-mouth. All of Heltix would know in like… a week!" The Demon whined, lifting his head to meet my gaze. I hummed in agreement, and went back to massaging his scalp.

"Plus, how would things get… complicated?" I muttered. Vincent buried my face into chest, trying to hide the red bloom across his face that I had only caught a glimpse of.

"Ya know… If things happened… In the bedroom." He whispered, keeping my face hidden.

"Ohhh," I chuckled darkly, as my fingers tangled in Vincent’s hair, "We wouldn't want that to happen, or do we?"

"I mean, maybe? I've…"

"It's crossed your mind?" I softly asked. Knowing with the current route, curiosity was going to kill the cat. I moved my hand down to massage the base of his neck.

"A few times. You?" Vincent asked, earning another dark chuckle from me, as I leaned down to whisper just above his ear. A touch of honesty wouldn't hurt anyone.

"You've caught me daydreaming a small handful of times," I purred, "Made it where I had to learn to keep a straight face when you snap me out of my little… ideas."

I rested my head against his temple, and listened to how his breath grew heavy, and then erratic. Like he wanted to let things get to hot and heavy, but had to restrain himself. I chucked the good boy thinking out the window, if I made him hot and bothered like this… Made me wonder what kind of effect I had on him...

"Wh-what kind of ideas? Fantasies?" Was Vincent’s next inquiry, still keeping his face hidden.

"Depends. If you can keep it in your pants. Some of these little idea get a little-"

"Aww, are you two cuddling?"

Bloody Hell.

Saeko had been the one to catch us cuddling, and going off the way Vincent’s breath hitched, he had felt like he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Platonically, mom," I deadpanned, barely raising my head to glance over at her, "Vincent's had a long rough day. He deserves some kind of reprieve at the end-"

"You're employees-"

"He's not an employee. This isn't a job you can find on fucking Cregs List. He’s a good friend of mine, I trust him with my life. He wouldn't be my right hand man if that wasn't so. So fuck off mom, it's just a platonic cuddle.” I was nearly hissing between my fangs, and heard her walk off. I looked back down at Vincent, who was staring at where Saeko had been standing.

“We’ve gotta keep it hidden from her, especially,” He muttered, before nuzzling into my neck, “So… Are we…?”

“We can give it a shot. I want to… so fucking badly. I'm tired of bottling and burying everything. It felt … nice today. To let it out just a little bit,” I ran my hand through his hair, gently massaging, “Cuddles are nice too.”

“Yeah. Well, until you start talking about fantasies,” Vincent whispered, “Plus, we need a far more private setting if you’re gonna make me all hot and bothered whenever you please.”

I chuckled, but patted his thigh.

“Up. We should go to bed,” I muttered, “If Abel hasn't made his move by tomorrow, then I gladly will.”

Vincent groaned as he got up, stretching his arms high above his head. He got out of my lap, and offered his hand to pull me out of my seat, before we both headed upstairs to our separate rooms. But, when I laid in bed, trying to collect my thoughts together, my phone buzzed.

_Vincent: This may seem really forward of me. But, can I sneak over to your room? To snuggle?_

I smiled softly to myself, and didn't reply. I got into pj’s, which was mostly just a pair of sweatpants, and slipped out of my room. Slipping from shadow to shadow, until I arrived at Vincent’s door. I didn't even knock, but quickly opened the door before stepping in. Vincent hadn't noticed, and was laying in his bed, scrolling around on his phone, the blue light gracing his face. I slowly approached the bed, and was almost hit when I rested my knee on the edge.  
  
“Damien?” He softly asked, rolling onto his back, and discarding his phone on the nightstand.

“I didn't want you to get caught, so I snuck on over. Hope you don't mind.” I whispered, laying down next to him, wrapping my arm around his hips, and nuzzling into his neck. He softly hummed as his hands got tangled in my hair.

“Don't mind at all. I just wanted more snuggles, especially after being caught by Saeko like that.” He kept his voice low, fearing that if he spoke too loud that we’d be caught red handed.

“So am I headed back to my room once it's bedtime?” He shivered under my touch, with my lips dusting against his neck. He shook his head, signalling, “no.”

“You're not sleeping alone, if that's what you’re asking,” Vincent said softly, pausing before placing a quick kiss on the top of my head, “Goodnight, Devil.”

I placed a kiss to the under his jaw, before nuzzling into his neck once more.

“Goodnight, Vinny.”

_I wasn't really surprised as I was dropped into the Dreamscape once more. That Serpent probably wanted to talk about Vincent._

_“Do you know why I’ve brought you here?”_

_I numbly nodded, eyes closed. Accepting that I wouldn't be able to see him here in the Dreamscape no matter how hard I tried._

_“Are you worried?” I asked. He didn't like the fallout after Rachel, as the Serpent was a creature of habit, and rather liked stability. So, even with how harsh and cold life grew after her, it was a rhythm he could get into. Even amongst the murder and blood, he could find some sense of normalcy._

_“Will he break us like she did?” Was his inquiry. Worry was all too clear there in his voice. It would have been touching if it weren't for our conversation last night, or if he wasn't … ya know… A monster who wanted nothing more than to pilot the shell._

_“She abused us. I don't think Vincent will,” I replied, folding my arms across my chest as I sat down on the floor, “Plus, he's a little fucked up too. Not to the level that we are, but nonetheless.”_

_“Still… Doesn't it… scare you? That he could hurt us too?”_

_Wow, he was really good about that, wasn't he? Voicing the thoughts I kept in the dark recesses of the mind. Far from front and center._

_“Serpent, if you're asking me to stay single for the rest of my life because the first experience was so dreadfully bad, then that's not going to happen my friend! We need to heal. Move on-”_

_“And punish that Angelic bitch the first chance we get!” He roared joyously._

_“Now you’re speaking my language!”_

_We had a good laugh about it, and it was nice to be able to talk to him without trying to narrowly escape his claws, or deals that would go sour. Especially the ones that even I had to pay attention to reading between the lines in order not to get fucked over. However, it was nice to be on the same page… Even if it was the first time in centuries._

_“We should talk more often. I like it when we’re on the same page like this,” I quietly mused, “We’re kinda gonna have to… Especially with what’s coming.”_

_“Don't worry your pretty little head about it, Damien. As long as I get to spill an Angel’s blood, I’m more than happy.”_

_I smiled, and looked up in the direction that I thought he was in._

_“Then can we have light here in the Dreamscape again?” I softly asked. There was a heavy sigh, a huff of hot breath in my face._

_“No. The darkness here is not something I control. I do believe it refers to the corruption of the mind. How dark_ you _, yourself are, Damien. But, run along now. Vincent is trying to wake you from your slumber.”_

After that, I was slowly pushed into the waking world, and found myself tangled in Vincent. I was the bigger spoon, with the Demon tightly pressed to my chest.

“Damien. Wake up!” He hissed between his fangs. I nuzzled into his neck, and gently nipped at his neck.

“Morning, Vinny baby.” I purred, feeling him still under my hold, before looking over his shoulder.

“You good, Dev?” I had no clue what he could be talking about, but it clicked in my head, the morning voice. I chuckled as I sat upright, rubbing at my eyes.

“Oh, is it my voice?” I asked, running my hand through my hair, “Heh, sorry if I spooked ya, Vinny.”

“That, and people are gonna-”

I leaned in and placed a quick kiss on his lips before teleporting back to my room. I sighed, and went to get dressed when I noticed my phone… Thousands of texts.

_Pikachu: Ummm. Abel is gonna stir the pot. Get down to Purgatorio. This message never happened. DO NOT RESPOND._

_Well, fuck._

I quickly got dressed, and wished for a moment that there was a panic button. Out of sheer panic, I just started screaming, “Angel’s attacking Purgatorio! Get your ass in gear!”

Faces blurred around me, and I didn't bother getting in the car. I just kept running, eventually letting wings unfurl and taking to the sky. Huge, black, leathery wings. Like that of a Dragons. It had been oh so long since I stretched these wings, but was still as skilled with them when they were white and feathered. I was over Purgatorio when I saw him there. Steadily flying, as if it was so effortless for him. But, I bet that I could still outfly him. The Angel had messy light blue hair, that danced in front of midnight blue eyes. He was dressed in a suit himself, but his having a blue theme compared to my black. An ocean blue blazer, ocean blue vest, white button down, black tie, white pants, and black dress shoes. He smirked, as he tilted up his head, halo following, which was a blueish silver, and cast a soft light blue glow.

“Well, the Demon has wings… I thought it was just tails and horns for your kind.” He mused.

“No. Your kind doesn't entirely rule the sky. Plus, our wings are far more suited for the skies, rather than your feathers. Now, a little birdie told me you were makin’ a move. On something that isn't yours.” I kept my voice even and cold, not daring to look over my shoulder for my side, but the collection of white wings behind him told me he wasn't giving up Purgatorio without a fight.

“Nah, I just think you can't stand to have less territory than me. How dare Hell look inferior!” He laughed, a wild sadistic one, “I’ll personally wipe the Demon scum off the face of the Earth if I have to.”

“Pull your head out of your ass. Notice who’s done the most damage to this city. Take responsibility for your _brethren_ , and stop blaming it on me and my kind. Now, this is your last chance to back down. Before we open the Gates of Hell on your doorstep.” I growled the final sentence, and finding that there was no reaction, other than a dead stare, I turned to look down, and saw Vincent leading the charge. I flashed him a shit eating grin before landing a swift roundhouse kick that sent him careening to the ground. I followed him to the ground, and instead of expecting him to be down on the ground, a number of metal feathers were launched at me from the rubble, so I did the only logical thing I could think of and let my wings take the hit as they dissolved into nothing but smoke. Technically, Demons don't have wings. It's just the energy it takes to summon them forth, I had narrowly dodged the metal feathers, and resummoned my wings to fly back to Vincent’s side. Who was already busy setting up a medical center with Cynthia and Sinder. In the ruins of a town square, Where we had pitched a white tent of sorts, with a number of beds within. Cynthia and Sinder were running back and forth already, trying to hurry and get prepared for the bodies that would be coming in soon

“What’s going on? How did you-”

I pulled Vincent in by the collar, and drew him close.

“Your feathered friend may be on our side. You may want to thank Pikachu some time,” I whispered, placing a quick peck on his cheek, “You got everything covered?”

“Y-yep!” He stuttered as that red blush overtook his face. I smirked, let him go before spinning on my heel. I heard Sinder whistle and almost instantly ask Vincent if we were a thing, but that was the last thing on my mind. It was effect for now, but drawing forth my magic, made black smoke-like clouds draw from the ground, they surrounded my feet, and snaked up to my hands. But, Demons got the fuck out of my way as I crossed the battlefeild. Back at the medbay the town square was mostly unharmed, but the city street where this was all taking place was mostly commercial. No homes being destroyed. Just the small businesses! Which is equally bad I guess. The well of magic was so much deeper than I had imagined, this wasn't just my well… My well of magic was deep, but measurable. This? Was if not twice if not three times as large! The Serpent must have been helping, lending me his power. I couldn't help but to smirk to myself, feeling a touch over confident as I continued to cross the battlefield. Shoving through Demons who were locked in combat with a number of Angels, and one had the balls to charge at me specifically. With a knife, and an AK in his other hand. I grabbed the handle of the blade, and twisted his hand round until I could shove it into his throat. The warm blood spilling across my hand awakened something primal, a bloodlust that would be far from helpful at this point. I needed to remain calm and steady, find the Angel, and show these Angels the truth of their leader… The weakling he was compared to the … God he thinks he is. I handled most of them with simple tactics, a touch of hand to hand combat, but when reaching the front line, I had to get a little more extreme. I had to use blasts that I could only think of as describing as a magic missile. But, was surprised to find myself being dragged into cover as a flash of bright white light came down nearly on top of me.

“What in Satan’s name is that!?” I cried, gesturing to the large creator the blast had left in the street. The corpses of Angels and Demons laying around the edge, or half evaporated in the bottom and sides of the large hole.

“Cannon.” Someone pointed over my shoulder, at a fucking cannon that the Angels had mounted on a tall building near the edge of Heaven’s District. It was almost pointed down right at me. 

“Oh fuck me then!” I cried, only to be hugged close to the person’s chest.

“Gladly, love~” The same female purred into my ear, and recognized the voice almost instantly! I glanced over my shoulder and smiled when I saw who it was.

“Alex! I haven’t seen you in ages! Shame with the circumstances,” I grinned, and hugged the Hellfire Demon. Even with us on the battlefield, she was still dressed to the nines. A deep scarlet dress that stopped half way down her lower legs. A feather boa with different shades of gray, black flats, with her hair put up into her classic, long pony tail. And a black choker finished the outfit, “Not really battle ready though.”

“Didn't plan on getting roughed up. Planned on being a pretty, petit thing that does a whole bunch of damage!” She cried, “But, that fucking cannon took my spot!”

She grabbed me by the arm and dragged me into cover into an alleyway. Where we could talk without getting injured in the middle of the battlefield. She ripped out the hair tie, and her messy black hair unfurled, and became it's spikey unruly self. Jade green eyes were alight with rage, and the roots of her hair were turning dark blue, a signal that the Hellfire Demon was _pissed_ _._

“Hey, hey! Don't you get your feathers ruffled with me! Take it out on the Angels!” I cried, holding up my hands in defense, “Who else is back here?”

“Just us… But your boy Vincent is hardcore! He’s running around with an AK and when he’s out of bullets, he dives for cover and reloads with Demon’s Blood! Cuz, that’s that metal that our blood turns into when it dries? Well, he’s even super drying it with fire! Your boy deserves extra, cuz digging into that wound on his wrist looks painful.” She explained, babbling slightly. Before pointing at him. Vincent had taken cover in the rubble from the cannon, in a foxhole of sorts. He had a knife with a serrated edge between his teeth, his other hand was squeezing on the wound, trying to press on his wound to force more blood out. I smirked for a moment, feeling somewhat proud that, yes, I had trained Vincent somewhat.

“That’s kinda smart… But, we’re not gonna be able to advance unless we get rid of that cannon,” I muttered, crouching as I pressed my hands to the ground, “Alchemy? Or show these feathered freaks of the light how powerful black magic is?”

I grinned at the Hellfire Demon as she held out her hand.

“Black magic, and if you-”

“Nope!” I cut her off, and ran out of our small space of cover, with black smoke now following my every step, but when the cannon fired down at me, I created a large shield of the black smoke, and was able to reflect the blast so it narrowly flew past the cannon. The shadow like smoke made me stick out like a sore thumb. Angels were in white, Demons had already been painted in crimson, not to mention the two species lay dead together on the battlefield. Abel, and all his glory was standing next to the cannon, an obnoxiously bright, pillar of whitish blue light. I charged towards the tower, opening wings as I took to the sky. Angel’s trying to grab at my ankles as I did so. They only got a swift kick to the face, or a quick spin made them let go. I wanted to take a moment and fly freely, forgetting how liberating it felt to be in the skies. But, shoved the thought down, as I furiously pounded my wings, soon reaching the top of the tower. The Angels there were far stronger than the pawns that cluttered the battlefield, and were quick to attack my wings. I had to dissolve them, even though I was a foot away from the building, and wouldn't be able to sink my claws into them. Not to mention these guys were armed with crossbows, one bolt lodged in my wing, and two others in my chest. I created smaller wings to at least glide down, but those wings were loaded with bolts almost instantly, and a few aiming at my back stopped my fall. A quick glance over my shoulder showed the bolts in my back were connected to large chains, and some Angels were trying to pull me back up. The bolts had to be made with Angel Feathers. A metal produced when an Angel infuses white magic into their feathers, making them harden into metal. This metal burns a Demon, and is excruciatingly painful. So, I did the only logical thing I could think of, even 75 feet off the ground. I dissolved the smaller wings, and flipped over onto my back, making a shield out of the same back magic, while I bit into my wrist, and drew it forth from the wound. Something similar Vincent had been doing… I formed the blood into metal, and being able to manipulate it from that point, I cut off the chains as I finally hit the ground. Some of the bolts had been forced through my chest, as I realized that my assault of the tower had been a rather bad idea. I was barely able to keep the shield up, as I saw a blur of red and white jump over me. All I could think of was the large gaping holes the thick bolts had left, not to mention why did they want to capture, and not kill? Surely these bolts were made with Angel Feathers. I used whatever little adrenaline I had left, and began to pull out any of the bolts as I could, roaring in pain as I did so. But, I was shaking with pain and the adrenaline was wearing off as I grasped the final bolt.

“Damien! Stop!” I turned my gaze towards the voice, only to see that blur of red and white again. Had the intensity of the pain made my vision go to shit? I just tried to focus on healing, even though the Angel Feathers made that rather difficult. As they slow exactly that. Imagine it as poison that attacks every part of the body. Like a religious zealot promising to scrub Demonkind off the face of the Earth

“Who’s there?” I rasped, finding talking painful too. Was there a bolt in my throat? I tried to desperately look around, but it was like a camera that would only focus if objects stayed still. The building and rubble around me were clear, but the white and red fox-like shape was moving too fast for me to see

“It's me! Saeko! Do you not-”

“No, mom! I can’t fucking see!” I snapped, “What’s going on?”

“We watched you do the stupidest thing! Why don't you use your head!?” She shrieked. I could only chuckle, as I shrugged. It was good that she used her Kitsune form here on the battlefield, which was truly a sight to behold, and something I had only seen a small handful of times in my youth. Shame for the Angels that his rare sight only meant death.

“Big light boom boom bad,” I said simply, noticing the coppery taste of blood. Speaking was definitely out of the option with me this injured. Another form looked over me, and I could barely make it out, other than it being a black and red blur over me, “Who’s dat?”

“Vincent,” The cracking voice replied, “Is it safe for me to move him?”

“Pick him up and go!” Saeko roared. Everything sang in pain, as the world around me spun and blurred. It was just all blurry and painful, so all I did was close my eyes, as I was carried to the nearest foxhole. I felt sick to my stomach, and I hated the warm feeling of my blood spilling out of me

“You're gonna be okay! You're gonna be okay!” He cried, as I was gently placed on the ground, “Damien, open your eyes! Stay with me!”

“Shit’s blurry. I closed my eyes because it's sickening to see the world spin and… Ugh” I mumbled, as I coughed, feeling a liquid fill the back of my throat. Ah yes. I don't need the blood.

“Oh, thank Satan!” He cried, and I felt his head rest against mine for a moment, “Now, how do I fix this? Devil what do I-”

“Oh how the mighty have fallen.”

_Abel._

I opened my eyes, and staggered to my feet. Shoving Vincent behind me as I held out my arms. Staring at the blurry white figure.

“It's so good to see you to finally fall off that pedestal you hold yourself on… Hopefully we can put that wretched wicked soul of yours to bed,” I heard it slice through the air for a moment as I took a shaky step towards him. A sword. A familiar song that I would never forget. I braced for impact, even adjusting my stance as the blow came. Shoving through my already marred chest. I caught hold of Abel’s shoulders and pushed against him. I had to keep it away from Vincent. That's all I could think as the metal burned my flesh, protecting Vincent. I kept pushing, my arms and legs shaking as I pushed back as hard as I could, “Come on! Let me get him! With the leader and right hand out of my way, Hell’s District will fall!”

_Damien! Let me help!_

I had never been happier to hear the Serpent's voice. But I kept pushing, just a little more… He twisted the blade, and I hacked up more blood. Disliking the familiar pain and crunch of multiple bones breaking. He let go, as I heard the hiss of the blood hitting and burning his skin. I grabbed the handle, and drew the blade out of my chest. I rasped for air, and looked over my shoulder, getting a glimpse of the terrified Vincent.

“Run.” Was all I could manage out before everything went black.


	4. Chapter Three: The Demon Within

_ Rest and Heal, Damien. I'll finish what you've started. _

I did everything I could, try and heal the shell to get moving again. The body would need weeks to heal under Damien’s care, but under my own, it would take a few hours. I could also hear voices above me, arguing whether or not I was dead.

"Check! Coleman!" The Angel roared, poking at me with the flat side of the sword. I felt Vincent's weight on top of me, as he grabbed hold of the blazer and began to sob. He had been silently sobbing when he saw Damien skewered, but was now releasing sound as the crushing news hit.

"Damien. Please. Get up," He whimpered, and I could feel a terrible pang of guilt in my chest. I guess Damien hadn't told his little lover boy about … me. About the “monster under his skin.” Well, he’d get familiar with me really quickly, "He's dead. There's no heartbeat, no nothing. Happy?"

There was a dark, sadistic chuckle, before the Angel spoke again. The sword was no longer at my arm, and assumed he was pointing it at Vincent. I could hear him screaming, Damien. 

_ Protect him! _

"Very~ It's your turn."

I pushed myself up onto my knees, and looked up at the Angel, offering nothing but a shit eating grin. Blue eyes looked down at me in terror. The sword had swung to the left, and was far away from Vincent. A cold calm overtook me, maybe it was just the fact that his sweet little lover boy was safe again. I made a quick glance about my surroundings and noticed we were in the shell of a building. It looked like that cannon had torn through it, rubble and the concrete skeleton was everywhere.

"So this is Fallensteel. You're so… Small," I rose to my feet, as the shell sang in pain as it struggled to heal while the transformation took, "You smell like a Sera. Are you? And why do you hide behind the mask of Guardian Angel? Something so weak. Something so…  _ small _ _. _ "

I chuckled, watching as he was nearly shaking in his boots. I looked down to see everything was right as rain. The transformation let me show the form that I usually displayed in the Dreamscape. One that could not usually be seen in it's thick darkness. I was far taller than Damien, especially with the … difference in leg types. He didn't like me using the goat legs, but it was the only way I felt like myself here in the physical realm. The horns of the same animal adorning my head. The clothes were beneath me in torn shambles.

"Wh-what are you?" Abel whispered, inching backwards towards the exit.

"His nightmare. I'll give you a two minute head start. Fly away, Angel," I purred, watching as he panicked, and was rather quick to get his little feathered ass out, before I turned towards Vincent, "As for you, lover boy… I have a few wise words for you."

He was smart, and tried to scramble away. But, I was slow, and calm about approaching him. A slow, almost predatory walk of mine.

"Don't worry. I just wish to talk. A message I feel Damien didn't fully pass on," I crouched down, and took a breath. Trying to collect my thoughts, something that was easier said than done, especially the connection I still had with Damien although I was the one driving, "The one before you broke us. Left behind scars we have yet to recover from. If you break us like she did? We have a special place in Hell for her, and _you_ _._ So please, if anything all I ask of you is to be … _gentle_ with us."

Vincent's terror has turned into surprise, and I didn't think of it much before I trotted off and out onto the battlefield. There was so much damage to the city… This isn't… This isn't what he wanted. I could feel his anguish rising up in our chest, the fury, the sorrow…

_ I'm sorry, Damien. _

The streets were flowing with Demons blood. It was reddish black, and the amounts that had been left out had already turned to steel. There was dust and feathers everywhere, wings that had been ripped off and had been discarded amongst the corpses. We had barely been fighting for one day! I kept walking, and was rather alarmed when I felt something wet and squishy being crushed under my hoof. I looked down and was rather horrified to find it to be an Angel’s corpse. I nudged the disgusting thing off to the side, as I approached where someone had set up camp, and was running a small medbay. It appeared to be guarded by a small group of lower Demons, and few higher class ones like Vincent’s or Damien’s friends. The one that was there went by the name of Benjamin Costner. He was looking rather panicked, and his general gaze over other Demons was judgemental, like he didn't know who to trust. He was decently tall, and his horns were rather unique. He had almost three sets of horns, each set progressively getting smaller. Not to mention the slit and the way it seemed the arrow tip was cut off made it look like his tail was a calligraphy pen. As I slowly approached, I took notice of his clothes. A blue cardigan, white dress shirt, grey pants, two tone shoes, and a blood red pentagram jewel string tie. A gift from Damien, if I remember correctly. He was weak with his magic, and the ruby had been infused with our blood. A handicap. He was rather weak with his magic and it made him feel isolated, scared, and defenseless. The amulet and some training from Damien himself made Benjamin far more confident in his abilities. But, his outfit told me he was a little rich boy, and the fact that his clothes lacked bloodstains told me he was either using a lot of force fields or had yet to see combat himself. His black hair was a mess, although trying to remain neatly combed. When he looked at me, color drained from his pale face, but didn't attract attention to me. Just accepting that’s the way I looked. But, the goat aspects marked me as a far higher ranking Demon than him, not to mention, far stronger.

“Hello,” I said simply, watching him shiver at the sound of my voice. Which was far different than the Dreamscape. Here it was dark, and gravely, and it was overlapped a few times over. Several different pitches speaking at once. My main voice was clear, but the pitches were like whispers, “You are Benjamin Costner, correct?”

“Who wants to know?” He hissed between his fangs. So, the brat had some balls! Nice to know, I smiled, and dropped into a bow.

“Samael Morningstar,” When I turned to standing upright, I laughed at the looks on their faces, shaking my head, “No. I am not the lightbringer. The true morning star. I am not the honorable Lucifer. It is simply but my name. But good to know that Demonkind hasn’t forgotten where we all come from. Do you know where Alex or Charlie are?”

“You r-”

The Spider Demon in question was emerging from the bedbay, and paused when he saw me. He was slightly taller than myself, especially with Charlie being such a tall spindly creature. He stared at me with sad eyes, before sighing, and using a touch of magic to make himself at least Benjamin’s height. His hair was a pale white, with faded sky blue tips, and his eyes always fascinated me. The left eye being a bright blue with black sclera, whereas the right was but a normal bright blue, with white sclera. He wore a black, torn blazer, a crimson crew cut, blue jeans, and black shoes. He pulled a back of cigarettes from his pocket, and lit one. Shoving multiple hands into his blazer pockets, I guess it was hard to figure out what to do with so many hands like that… Not to mention having to find special clothing having three sets of arms.

“So… Damien had-”

“Skewered by that Angel who thinks he’s so … Godly,” I hissed, balling my hands into fists, “And no matter how much I tell him to rest, he still fights ever so desperately to just… Hear. Listen. It's amazing the control he has over this shell.”

I softly smiled, resting my hand over our chest. Before looking back up at Charlie.   
  
“How are things going?” My voice was now intertwined with Damien’s. Was he wondering the same thing? I chuckled to myself, and reminded him of his place in the backseat and not to fuck with the driver.

“Great losses on both sides. Those Angels are ruthless. Not to mention their waving around weapons of that cursed metal… Angel’s Feathers. They’re slaughtering us as fast as we can slaughtering them. I mean, if you were back there… He looked in the direction I came from, “That was like… 20 minuets ago? So the upside of the slaughter is that things are moving alarmingly quick.”

I looked along the road I was on, and felt that anguish, that sorrow again. I rubbed at my chest, feeling apologetic again. This isn’t what he wanted… He wanted to crush the Angels rather quickly, and to leave the city as least destroyed as possible. This was making everything so much… Worse.

“And the cannon?” I asked, keeping my gaze on the blood that was staining the streets red and silver.

“Thank the fox. Saeko took care of it,” He said simply. When I looked back at him, he was smiling, “So, Damien didn't die for nothing. He distracted the Angel long enough for Saeko to take out the blasted thing.”

There was a faint glimmer of happiness, like a sad little, “yay.” But, that didn’t make it better. He was still.. Sad.. Angry. Do humans have a word for those two put … together? Sagry? Smad? I don't know… All I knew is that there needed to be revenge for what was lost. Lives and blood. I crouched down, and pressed my hand to the rough concrete. I focused for a moment, and drew the blood towards me. Soon, I had a large puddle of red and silver all around me of Demons blood. Enough to make an armor of the liquid. I made a simple plated armor, and started my trek down to the battlefield as it dried. It looked like shiny steel when I reached the gunfire, and two bullets had easily ricocheted off my chest. I heard a familiar voice, calling my name.

“Sam! Sam!”

I was hugged from behind by such a small and dainty thing, and when I turned around, I was surprised to see Alex.

“Alexandra, a lovely little thing such as yourself has no place on the battlefield.” I purred, crouching down so my armor would protect her from any stray bullets.

“What? I can't be beautiful _and_ dangerous? Plus, if we’re going to send this message to Angelkind, why can't I do it in style?” She asked, folding her arms across her chest. I rolled my eyes, but frowned.

“This dress does no effort to-”

“It's called skintight force field, Go head-” She held out her arm, “Burn me.”

I did as she asked and held a small fireball under her arm, the area around it turned a soft blue, and showed a net like texture. I gasped, and wanted to investigate it further, but she drew her arms through the fireball as she returned it to her side.

“See? Dainty and powerful. Now, careful Sammy. No respawns here.” She said before trotting off into the battlefield, setting every Angel that came too close to her alight. I couldn't help but shake my head. Of course there were no respawns. Technically speaking, _I_ am the respawn. If I were to die, then both Damien and myself would be dead. Permanently. With no way of resurrection. Damien is the main between the two of us, and technically can die as many times as he wants without a care in the world. I just have to keep the body alive until he’s well enough to operate it again. I continued to trot into the battlefield, keeping my gaze on the sky, the only thing I was really concerned about was removing his wings… That Angel who thought it would be a bright idea to skewer Damien like that. In front of Vincent no less! I waded through the battlefield, Demons stepping out of the way, and Angels were bright enough to not charge me. Those who were, were promptly crushed under my hooves. God, I had almost forgotten what that looked like.. What it felt like.. To watch shards of skull spew out like shrapnel, the brain to squish and splatter like an egg hitting the ground. It made that bloodlust show itself for a moment. I continued onward, until I felt blood drip down onto my face. I collected it on the tip of my finger, and licked it.

_ Copper. _

I knew I hadn't been hurt, so why was I tasting Damien’s- _Our_ blood? I looked about, and quickly turned my attention to the sky. It was the Angel, carrying a sword that was nearly black with our blood. He was swiping it down at the ground to hopefully shake the liquid that was poison to him off of the blade. I summoned wings, and took flight. Bullets and arrows tore through the wings, but I still rose into the sky, charging towards the Angel.

“Fallensteel!” I roared, watching his wings still as he looked down in the direction of my voice. His flaps became far less steady, and panicked. It was like watching an eagle fly like a hummingbird. I easily caught up, and raked my claws down his wings. The Angel screamed in pain, and as he began to fall, he spun around, trying to swipe the blade at me. It only scratched across my chestplate, and watched as he fell. The far better fall would be from grace, but this would have to do for now. I followed him down, and saw he had crashed into an office building. He was coughing up blood, and was struggling to crawl over to his sword, which I gladly took. The broadsword looked fairly simple, even with the leather around the handle.

“Who the fuck are you?” He hissed between wheezes. I chuckled as I crouched down, and ran my palm along the blade. Slicing it open, and coating it with my blood.

“Damien is a lovely little crossbreed. Not to mention the legends around his fall. Plus, what idiot thinks he can skewer a grandmaster like that and get away with it?” I shoved him onto his back, and shoved the blade through his sternum. He was pinned to the floor, since the broadsword was now embedded into the floor.

“Gra-andmaster?” He coughed up a larger amount of blood as he reached for the handle, I batted his hands away, and smeared more of my blood on the handle, before finally healing my wound.

“You should know what that means, Sera,” I hissed, “Now, if you excuse me-”   


“I'm not a Seraphim!” He horsley cried. I looked down at the Angel and sighed, shaking my head while clicking my tongue.

“Then tell me why you smell like one? Like death and mortal’s blood?” I hissed, as I rose to my hooves. Abel sighed, and still grabbed at the blade. His skin hissed as it met the blood, it was like poison for him, like acid.

“I was the Archangel of Death. I gave the role to Salem Winchest-”

“Your halo would still be silver. But, it's blue. Only Sera’s have blue halos, and smell like death and mortal blood. You can't lie to me, Fallensteel. Now have fun with that.” I trotted off, and took flight out the hole in the wall that had been made when he crashed through. I tried to go and help, but I felt woozy, sick to my stomach on the battlefield. What was wrong with me? I looked about, and everything was starting to go black, and fuzzy. I tried to yell for Alex or Ace, but no response… I kept looking around, but soon the world was swallowed in it's inky blackness. I heard a dark laughter, as the magic became all too familiar. I remembered this feeling, of being trapped, I could feel Damien panicking, screaming…

_ “Been a while, hasn't it, Sammy~?” _

That voice… The one that purred in the darkness… Her voice echoed around the bubble… It had to be magically done, there was no way she could do it physically.

“What do you want from me!? And when did I enter your bubble?” I hissed, keeping my gaze on the ground. She laughed, a cold sadistic laugh that made shivers run down my spine.

_ “After you kebabed my boss~ Now, Samael, let Damy out to play.” _

That explained why he detested that nickname. It was hers. I sat down, and shook my head.

“He's not ready for you. He’s still healing. You can talk to me.” I said sternly, trying to think of any way out of her bubble. I didn't dare ask Damien, as this was probably causing some sort of PTSD trigger for him. It was getting hard to think, with his mind going a mile a minute, reliving painful memories. I got up and started running, searching for the edges of her bubble. There was no way I would be that far from the fight, I just needed to get to an edge, and then I could call upon her. I know Lydia told Damien that she didn't want Lily to fight. That Lil Lily would be a last resort, but we needed out, we weren’t ready to face her. Not like this.

_ “You can’t run from me, Samael!” _

Her voice was so loud, deafening. I ran smack into the wall, and desperately began clawing at it. Tearing through the gelatinous mess was the easy part, even with her shrieking to stop, that I couldn’t escape, but I got my head out for a brief moment. That was all I needed. Just a moment.

“Lily!” I roared as loud as I could, before I was swallowed up in her prison, “Why can’t you leave us alone? I thought we were done!”

My voice was mixing with Damien’s. He wasn’t healing, he was trying to give me whatever strength he couldn’t heal at that point. Fucking idiot. The sentiment was appreciated, but not needed.

_ “No. Not exactly… Not until you tell me-” _

“A bitch like you doesn't deserve Heaven!” We roared, as I let the armor melt, and become a living metal pool that I sat in. There was a bright light in the center of the large room, depicting the person in question.

_ Rachel Dreamflow _

Long black hair flowed over pointed ears and rested comfortably on her shoulders. She wore a tight black dress with no straps, and stopped at her thighs. Black heels clicked along the floor as she approached, and I thickly swallowed as I noticed some stark differences. Her halo wasn't silver like a Fallen’s, or the Archangel of Death, it was now jet black, and cracking, stark white horns stuck out from the top of her head, and a long white Demon’s tail swished behind her. The Fallen Angel was losing her grace, and was becoming more Demonic as time went on.

“Sammy, Sammy. What ever happened? You were like mine and Damien’s big pet cat,” She reached to pet me, but the puddle formed spikes, and one was pointed at her throat. I hadn't done that! I wasn't even focusing on forming it into anything just… Keeping it liquified, “Now that isn’t nice…”

“As much as I’m telling him to sit back and heal, he still stays in the passenger seat. _That_? Was Damien.” I grinned as I turned my attention downward. The spike fell, and returned to the puddle. Who knew if it would even hurt her? She was starting to enter that grey area of both Angel _and_ Demon.

“So, he can hear me?” She softly asked in disbelief.

“Yes. When you hear his voice mingle with mine, he wishes to say the same thing.” I said softly, not daring to turn my gaze up to the Angel.

“So when you said that I don't deserve Heaven…”

“You heard him then? It's hard for me to tell sometimes.” I smirked, and rested one of my hands in the cool pool of steel. My tail idly waving back and forth.

“Why don't I then? Hmm? Why doesn't an Angel-”

“Because you aren't one.” I sucked in a breath, eyes wide. That wasn't a mixture of our voices. That was just  _ his _ _. _

“What?” She hissed between her fangs, her eyes turning a soft purple, rather than their traditional black. The smile that overtook my face was not my own, or of my doing. It was all… Damien.

“You heard me. You're like me at last you cunt. A Demon,” The grin that we flashed up at her, was the biggest shit eating grin we could muster. Watching her face fall, and her jaw drop. I let Damien grab hold of the wheel from the passenger seat, and we rose to our feet, looking down at the smaller one, “Plus, I don't have to sit by and bite my tongue anymore. I don't have to worry about you or what you think you can do to me. Look at us! I’ve started a fucking war over these people! And you want to hash out our drama now of all times? You’re not as high as you think you are, on the Angelic food chain. If anything you're at the very bottom. So, step down from your high horse, Angel. Before Sam and I rip you off it.”

That was new… He never called me by my name. For all that I knew, I thought he didn't even know my name. It was… touching.

“Back down,  _ Damy _ you're not-”   


“I’ve gotten a lot stronger since you’ve left. Yes, I cannot escape your bubble without the help of a Shadow Demon, but I can surely make your life in this place Hell. Samael, if you would.” He let go, and I felt alone in my skin again as the sadistic smile overtook my face.

“Gladly.” I purred, summoning the metal to surround me once more as large, white cracks began to form in the sides.  
  
“No! No! No! I'm not-”  
  
“Done with me? When _we_ are clearly done with _you_?” I hissed, when the bubble shattered, and fell like thick, fat, blobby, black snowflakes.  
  
“Samael!”  
  
“Damien!”  
  


I looked at those who were gathered around the bubble. Various soldiers, Ace, Alex… So many Demons, but the two that stood out were none other than Vincent and Lily. The young Shadow Demon stayed at Vincent’s side, staring at me with wide eyes. Her skin was jet black except for silver hair that covered her right eye, only showing the bright blue one. She was wearing a white sweatshirt that faded to black around her wrists and the hem, torn blue jeans, and dark brown combat boots. She clutched a black and white composition notebook to her chest, and unlike most Demons she didn’t have horns, but a long black tail swayed behind her. 

“You were the one who called upon me… Are you the,” she flipped through the notebook, and held up a page that had me drawn on it. Shaded all in pen. Obviously one of Damien’s drawings, “His monster?”

“The Demon within. Yes.” I said with a stern nod, and before anyone said anything, Rachel had been engulfed in a bright blue flame. I backed away from it, and scanned the crowd. Alex. Her eyes were now a bright blue, and her hair had also changed color. A dark blue at the roots, and a whitish blue at the tips. Nobody rushed to Rachel’s aid as she screamed, begging for help, before turning to me.

“Damien! Help me!” She cried, even reaching out for us. I took a step back, and when I spoke, I could clearly hear Damien’s voice.

“We feel death is too good for you. Living is the punishment you truly deserve. Tortured for all of eternity is what we feel is right. Maybe that could be done in Hell. Alex, if you would like to do the honors?” I said, gesturing towards her. She grinned, and I watched as she slowly approached, holding out one hand, probably a method for keeping the flame concentrated on her. I turned to Vincent, and signaled him to cover Lily’s eyes. Since the Hellfire had begun to make her skin, and flesh melt off her bones. There was a bright flash of white behind me, and when I whirled around to see if it was the Angelic cannon once more, but there was a large red, burned alchemic circle where Rachel was standing.   


“I didn't-”

“I did.”

I looked towards the speaker, and saw nothing but a fox roughly the size of a dire wolf approaching me. Cloud-like, small wings were on the shoulders, and the tail has more cloud-like designs. There were also some bright red markings. A large circle on the forehead, with the line retreating between the ears before disappearing. The other markings are around the chest and looked like paint brush strokes, and were always symmetrical. But, that was not all of the red on the fox. There were red fades on the paws, and on the tail tips. And the creature had a questionable number of tails… 7.

“Saeko?” I softly asked, remembering that Damien had told me that dear old adoptive mother was none other than a Kitsune. A form I had never personally seen. 

“Samael,” The wolf replied sternly, “But, it was about time someone did something about Miss Dreamflow. So, the next problem is Fallensteel, no?”

“His army. I skewered him on his own blade,” I softly uttered, “His army is our current problem. Unless he gets out of the deathtrap.”   
  
“You heard him everyone! Move out!” Saeko was quick to run off, and swaths of Demons followed her. But, I felt two sets of eyes on me. Lily and Vincent. I slowly approached, and even dropped into a low crouch so I was more Lily’s height.

“So Damien wasn't lying.” She whispered. I closed my eyes and tried to summon the memories of that conversation. Lily was concerned about one of her personalities, and the only comforting words Damien had to offer was that we all have our Demons. Both physical and emotional. And that's when he drew the little drawing of me.

“No. He wasn't,” I opened my eyes, and looked at the drawing again, “But, I wish us to be on the same level. Same page. Ya know? Where there isn't king or enemy. Equals. I hope that you can do that one day with Victor. Now,” I looked up at her, trying not to smile as a mouthful of fangs isn't the nicest thing to show a kid, “Run on home. A battlefield is no place for your garden to flourish.”

She nodded, and disappeared in a puff of black smoke. Just leaving me and Vincent alone in the destroyed city square. Corpses and blood littered the edges, and the area the alchemy circle had been was nearly burned into the concrete. I couldn't quite bring myself to look Vincent in the eye as I rose to full height.

“He didn't tell you about me, did he?” I asked, keeping my voice soft and gentle.

“Who are you?” Vincent hissed, folding his arms across his chest. I didn't expect him to be angry, but sighed, and explained anyway.

“My name is Samael. No, I am _not_ the Devil,” I paused, but Vincent waved his hand, signaling me to keep going, “Damien is a crossbreed. We don't even know what we’re a crossbreed of! We barely remember the fall from Heaven and grace, and being a child in Hell. What we do remember is mindlessly wandering the Earth, and just … experiencing things until the Morningstar’s summoned us, and … All of that distastefulness happened. For the longest time, we knew each other well. Brothers in the same shell. But, with those Morningstars, he was cut off from his magic, from me. And began to fear me again. Seeing nothing but an untamed monster. So, I played the part. I became the nightmare he saw.”

“Why didn't he tell me about you? It seems plenty of people already know.” Was his next retort.

“We told Lily because he understood the feeling of not being able to be safe in her own skin. We told Alex and Ace because they saw. We-.  _ He _ told Saeko because he wanted me out. To separate us into our own entities. And before you even ask, lover boy. No. It cannot be done. We are fused to the soul. Even with the caliber of a Kitsune Saeko is, she cannot discern whose soul is who's and separate us.”

Vincent nodded, seeming to accept all of the information I was telling him at face value. Taking my word as the absolute truth. It was refreshing to have at least Vincent on my side. But, it did feel exposing to have multiple people knowing about me. I rather liked being a dark secret, it was nice being the introverted monster, and Damien keeping it to himself helped with that. But now his mom, his two closest friends, Lily and the rest of the personalities in her system, and now… Vincent. His lover.

“Can I talk to him? Damien?” Vincent asked, tilting his head to the side, which I only found to be adorable as fuck. Or was that Damien’s emotions meddling with mine again? It was getting hard to tell, especially with our previous escapade with Rachel   


“No. But, can I ask a favor of you?” I began, “I’m here because Damien was … far too injured to continue to drive this shell out ours. So could you pretty please tell him to _rest_ and _heal_!? At this rate, it's gonna take him at least a _month_ _._ So please-”

He reached up, and clasped the sides of my face, getting far closer than I would have liked.

“Dev. I don't know if you can-”

“I can.” Vincent hearing Damien’s voice must have been a Godsend. It put a pang of pain in my chest seeing the sorrow and joy on his face, tears welling up in the corner of his eyes. Maybe it was far more damaging to watch Damien get skewered and then get back up. Not to mention the last thing he told Vincent was, “run.” Presumably me.

“Well, you need to chill, Devil. Let Sam take care of things. You can worry about me later, mkay?” Vincent said, his voice nearly cracking as he did. It tore at me, but that was probably with Damien still on the surface.

“Okay, Vinny. I’ll chill. Plus, I get-”

“Yes. Yes. When you're ready,” I muttered, before taking a small step back. I didn't want anybody to physically say that I was going to hand over control once Damien was better. I didn't want to think about it, that’s how it is simply, “I don't think you should fight anymore. Stay in the medbay. I don't think you’re mentally… Okay. To fight.”

“Yeah. You’re probably right. Watching Damien get skewered, get back up… I’ll defend the medbay. If, and only _if_ Damien does as he's told. Laying back and healing.” After watching Vincent trot off to the medbay, I felt alone in my skin again. Nobody was looking over my shoulder… He was finally back seat. I released a heavy sigh, and smiled to myself.

“Thank you, Damien.” I whispered, before trotting off after Vincent, just to check up on the medbay. He was already chatting with Benjamin, who would occasionally glance at me from the corner of his eye. Ace was in the middle of another cigarette when he approached me.

“So… who's the other spider? The medic?” He asked, gesturing towards her with a free hand. She was about the same height as Ace, and had long, navy blue, blue hair that transitioned to black at the tips, that was in a ponytail. She wore white lab coat, black combat boots, black pants, and dark green blue shirt, that had splatters of black. I saw her eyes for just a moment and saw her eyes were similar to Ace’s. The right having a blue iris, and black sclera while the left was just a normal blue eye. She was a big sister figure to Damien, and could use almost any weapon. Like Ace, she had six arms and two legs. She’s the medic of the group, being able to construct massive webs used to capture, or web that can be used as bandages. She makes a great doctor, because of her steady hands, and the fact she's not afraid to see a little blood. Cynthia is her teacher, and the two make great friends. Cynthia has said a number of times that Sinder would make an excellent surgeon if it weren't for her criminal background, and association with Damien. While talking with Cynthia, the crow mentioned that there were loopholes that she could jump through, and it would take her a long time, but she could become a licensed surgeon at the state hospital. And become the best in Heltix. Which, odd enough, would be gunning for Cynthia’s old job. She told Damien all of this and her reasoning for it was rather sweet. She didn't want to leave her family or her “kid brother” behind. Plus, she can't leave Mad Man Cyan to patch everyone up.

“Almost a sister to Damien. Sinder Hellman is good people. Why do you ask?” I tilted my head to the side and Ace opened his mouth to talk, but there were screams from the battlefield. I booked it into an all out run, and stopped when I saw it… I couldn't believe it… An Angel of the Ice, freezing everything in sight. Angel, Demon… I couldn't see him over the spikes, but spotted Alex, the little thing trying to keep the ice at bay with her hellfire. Blue flames were erupting from the palms of her hands, looking panicked, and nearly backed into a corner. I summoned forth the same blue flames, spreading them across the accursed ice, trying to be gentle when I saw a Demon. But, the Angel started to circle fire users. I tried to keep the flames moving in a circle but simply trying to keep the flames in control was even hard for a grandmaster like myself. Hellfire manipulation was like herding cats. The cat wanted to go off and do it's own thing, not be told what to do. But, this was no problem with a grandmaster such as myself, but for Alex? Not so much. Even though all her life she was trained and had to learn to master this power, and yet… It was still a difficult feat for her. I was trying to help the poor thing, and didn't notice I had been encircled in the ice. I tried to look up and all I could see was wings. White and grey wings above my little hole.

“Get that son of a bitch!”

That voice was all too familiar. None other than that fucking Sera.

But, whatever did he want with little old me? What had Damien done to this Angel that he now wanted me dead? Well, the ice didn't kill me exactly. It just would make me pass out until someone thawed or broke me out. I wanted to start clawing at the walls, I could feel the cold sinking into my skin, but there was something else… I don't like tight spaces. As the walls began to close in, I felt like there was a snake around my throat. I wanted to claw, but that would be far less efficient, not to mention controlling the flame was growing more difficult by the moment. As panic clouded my mind, and the focus required was lost as the ice climbed up my hooves, encasing half my legs in the icy tomb. The flame withered in my palm, and I looked up to see that I was sealed within with limited air. I began to desperately claw, fearing that I may suffocate in this tiny box of ice. But, as I clawed, the ice moved up my legs and slowly I was encased in the material, unable to move, and with limited air as the ice began to stick to my skin. Panic still had it's hooks in my mind, and all that heavy breathing had taken all the air. Now the body grew heavy, and fuzzy as everything faded to black.


	5. Chapter Four: Sunlight

I slowly walked into the chamber, not daring to look at the Demon, or the pile of blankets that he had been carelessly swaddled in. But, I approached the Angel who had done the dirty deed. An angel by the name of Marcus Williams. Well known for his silver tongue, and how his tactics had led to the fall of a number of Angels. There were quite a few Fallens amongst my ranks who wanted to rip him limb from limb. Make Marcus fall himself. He was a tanned fellow, but had patches of pale skin, and there was a stripe of stark white hair that ran through his golden locks. He turned to show bright blue eyes, and smiled brightly at me. His ice blue feathers gave away his species as an Ice Angel, claiming it was the only way we could catch the Morningstar. He wore a thick jet black hoodie that had large buttons on the front and was used to cover the front of his face. There was a pair of black jeans which were almost light grey from tears around the knees and the cuffs which dragged on the floor slightly, and were often stepped on under his combat boots.

“We got him!” He softly cried, his hidden smile making his eyes crinkle. I turned my attention to the Demon in the small prison, and frowned.

“It seems too easy. I thought he was a grandmaster.” I turned my attention to Marcus, who released a heavy sigh, stretching his magnificent wings.

“He is. It's just been so long since he's gotten into a scrap like his war in Purgatorio. If we keep him imprisoned, he won't have the chance to return to full power,” Marcus explained as he approached, and stared at the sleeping form, “Don't alert Heaven. Even with the vendetta they have against him. That, and his sister would swoop down from Heaven and beat us down the moment she found out what we plan to do to this Morningstar.”

“What is that? All I want is to get some information from him,” I muttered, folding my arms across my chest, “What do you want with Damien?”

“He’s a Morningstar! A grandmaster! A crossbreed! We could learn of his genetics, his weaknesses, and-”

There was a crack of a whip, and when I looked down, there was a bright red mark on the side of Marcus’s face. His head popped up, and a pair of glowing red eyes stared back at us. His tail was close to the bars, and slithering back to his pile of blankets. The monster I had seen on the battlefield and had skewered me was now gone. It was just the same Demon that  _ I had skewered _ in front of his right hand man.

“Shut up. We’re trying to sleep.” The Demon hissed, the monster's voice and Damien’s mixing together. Was it like two souls sharing the same body? Two brothers in one shell?

“Sleep will be the least of your worries here soon. If Fallensteel doesn't mind, I’ll be the one whos in charge of your torture.” Marcus hissed as he rose to his feet.

“Good luck.” Was all Damien said before collapsing back into the pile of blankets. Marcus said that he had business to attend to in Heaven, not to mention gather the required materials to torture the Demon. I went and grabbed him a shirt and baggy sweatpants. Since his transformation back had not come with clothes. I returned to his cell and threw them at him. The Demon was quick to get back up, and this time hissed - a sound that was nearly snake-like. 

“What did you do that he thinks you need to be tortured?” I asked, sitting at the bars, with my back to Damien. He did need privacy to change after all.

“Depends. What do you know of the legend? The one surrounding my fall?” The monster's voice was fading, and gave Damien’s voice a strange reverb. I sighed, and began to explain.

“That you went mad. Killed a fleet for no good reason. You ripped off your wings and snapped your halo over your knee yourself. When you jumped from the puffy clouds of Heaven, you did it… Laughing.” It was strange to have such a cordial conversation with him. After what had happened on the battlefield. Did he see what the monster did to me? Did he hear what the monster said?

“Sure. If that's what you want to believe. But, righteous Angels like yourself and Marcus will find that my punishment in Hell wasn't enough. That becoming a Demon, and living as scum as a crossbreed-” He abruptly paused, “You don't need to know that part. A-anyway… Some Angels want to punish me further. Kinky bastards…"

I glanced over my shoulder, and saw he was dressed now. Staring down at his hands, with bright red eyes.

"You don't want to hurt me. Do you?" He glanced up, and gazes were briefly met. I quickly looked away, but the image I could not erase. Blood red glowing eyes that had a sorrowful look that was oddly hollow.

“No. I don't have the same vendetta against you. My quarrel with you exists outside your fall.” I sighed, feeling awkwardly exposed. The typical mask was nothing but dust, I was tired and freshly healed. There were so many questions I wanted to ask, and didn't have nearly enough patience to try and pull up the arrogant facade that I used at the beginning.

“You're not good at it yet. Being a man of masks,” He softly asked, before a chuckle left him, “It's tiring, isn't it?”

“How the fuck do you do it? You make it seem so easy!” I cried, throwing my hands into the air for a brief moment.

“Do it for your whole life. Do it for so long you wonder who you are. Who are you, Abel? A man of masks? Or just another mask for someone else to wear?” I looked over my shoulder, and saw the hollow look in those eyes remained but he was smiling now, “You can tell Markus that he can do whatever he wants to me. If the little Angel of the Ice thinks he can bring me down a peg, let him try. If he thinks he can drag me from this cage without nearly killing himself… Let the man try. I need to … discuss something with him.”

“What do you have against Markus?” I asked, slowly turning in my spot to face the Demon. He was sitting in the nest of blankets, slightly hunched, and from where I was sitting only a small portion of his face was visible. Especially with him facing away with me.

“He's hurt my friends and family. No Angel should be allowed to do what he's done,” He hissed, his tail flicking angrily behind him, “If I have to, I’ll take him to court-”

“The Velvet Council?” I quickly interjected, shocked that he would even think of doing such a thing. The Velvet Council was a place far worse than Hell, depending on who you are, and the Council exists between Heaven and Hell, strictly Purgatory. For a situation like this, he might be able to bring both God and Satan into the Council and have them act as judges, rather than Death. If the charges were bad enough, Markus could easily lose his spot as an Angel, and possibly even be sent to Hell. But, what he would become in Hell would be up to the deities.

“Duh! When he's a wolf in sheep's clothing. A Demon with a halo and wings… He deserves to come crashing down from his high horse,” He didn't look back at me, and was looking down at his hands, which still had the same pitch black skin that the monster had. It transitioned to his normal skin tone around halfway up his forearm. Long claws emerged from the tip of his fingers, before sinking back, “Is my magic being suppressed?”

“Heavily. The bars of your little prison are made of Angel’s Feathers.” I replied coldly, turning away. I rose to my feet, and was going to walk away, when I heard shuffling, followed by hissing. I turned to the sound, and saw that Damien had reached out to grab one of the bars, and was twisting it until it snapped, and he had a small piece of the bar.

“Obviously an alloy,” He dropped the metal on the ground before looking up at me, “Heaven has obviously changed.”

“What makes you say that?” I asked, keeping the cold exterior. I folded my arms across my chest, and watched the Demon intensely.

“Heaven would slaughter Angels for their feathers. They’re not doing that anymore if you’re forced to use some weak alloy.” He turned away, before standing. He began to examine the walls, and I left the room as he did so. I was looking for Markus when I bumped into my right hand man. An Angel by the name of Theodor Hudson, or if you were close to him, you called him, “Theo.” His white fluffy hair was white, fluffy. However, it was far from curly. He wore white and black two-tone shoes, gray pants, white button down, black armbands, and black suspenders finished off the outfit. His wings were a stark white and so was his halo. Some people called him, “Pikachu,” because of his powers, and his race as an Angel. He worked mostly as an assassin and information gatherer.

He's your classic Angel, but doesn't do the “holier-than-thou” or the “kill all Demons.” Which unfortunately made him an outcast amongst his own kind. He was one of the best as he kept a very strict line between work and himself, and I actually knew very little about my right hand man. Other than he was rather good with a sniper rifle, and should not be trifled with when he's pissed. Not to mention Theo isn't really into politics, so he really doesn't have an opinion on Angels or Demons. Making him an advocate for any Fallen Angels in our ranks. Many appreciated him for this, and others despised him for it. But, politically amongst our own race, he had no opposition and was a mysterious grey area.

“Theo-”

“It's Theodor to you, sir. How’s the Morningstar doing?” He asked coldly. I knew he had to be masked, putting up a facade like Damien or myself, but I had never seen it falter. I sighed, and looked back at the room where the Demon in question was being kept, before looking back at the Angel.

“Cold. Uncooperative,” I said simply, “But, since Markus helped, he gets to do what he wants and what he wants is…”

I swallowed thickly, wondering what all tests that Markus wanted to run. What all was he wanting to do to Damien? What was it in Heaven that he needed to do what he was planning?

_ Why was I even worried about Damien? _

“What does Markus want?” I had barely noticed it, but there it was. A break in that frozen cold mask of his. Concern in his voice, and eyes wide. Obsidian eyes darted to look over the edge of my shoulder, as if he was trying to sneak a glance at the Demon himself.

“Tests. Learn of his genetics, his powers, his weaknesses… Da-. Morningstar thinks it's because Markus wants to punish him for his fall further. What do you know of his fall?” I asked, seeing if the break in the cold exterior was so strong that he would tell me something he kept hidden.

“You know how I talk to Vincent, right? Morningstar’s right hand man. Considering you go by last names, you probably know him simply as Coleman. A-anyway. Vincent told me the real story goes a little like this…”

He sighed, and made me promise not to tell anybody before he began.

Before myself, and my bullshit with Heaven, Damien was the supposed Archangel of Death. The job was to send the virtuous to Heaven, and the sinful to Hell. Soon, Damien had begun to question how sins and virtues worked, why people of society, that humans, had deemed as evil, were worthy of Heaven. Or why a 12 year old should be sent to Hell. On multiple occasions, he had the balls to challenge God and his virtues, only to be punished. Double time. Which was simply Damien taking care of all the reapings, rather than trading off with other Archangels of Death. No stopping, just one soul to the next. So he … snapped. Swinging the scythe in any direction he wanted… It was a bloodbath. The kill count was not only 27 mortals, but the 20 or so Angels that brought him to Heaven to hopefully stop him. Apparently, he was crazy enough to rip out his own wings, snapping his halo over his knee, and jumping off the puffy clouds of Heaven. Laughing like a madman.

I couldn't help but chuckle. Both Ex Archangels of Death were ready to rebel against Heaven.

_ Maybe I could work out a deal of some sorts with him… _

“Is the current Archangel-”

“Salem Winchester? Yes,” He stated calmly, “But, careful. I've heard rumor that Morningstar has beef with Markus so you m-”

“Someone say my name?”

As if on cue, Markus appeared behind the small Angel, and the two glared at each other for a moment before Markus turned his attention to me. 

“Yall talkin shit about me?” He asked, only half joking.

“All I was doing was advising against whatever it is you want to do to Morningstar. He's got something of a vendetta against yo-”

“Don't care. This needs to be done. Hell was far too kind to him.” Markus snapped as he pushed past me, and marched to the cell. I followed him with Theodor on my heels. He started by setting up a small machine he previously placed in the room, and when he turned his attention back to Damien, he was shocked. He was now fully dressed in a suit similar to what he was wearing on the battlefield and was softly singing to himself. A song I don't think I had ever heard before, but it was unnerving how he sang it, slow, like it was a lullaby of sorts, sitting on the floor of the cell. In a forgin tongue I didn't quite recognize, but it was beautiful nonetheless. I didn't know Damien could sing..

“Shut up!” Markus roared, a needle in his hand, it didn't have anything in it, obviously wanting to take a small portion of his blood for testing. But, Damien simply rose to his feet, and looked at the slate grey wall as he sang what I assumed to be the next lines of the song. 

“Theo! Make him stop!” Markus hissed, and now I could see what Damien was talking about. That Markus was a wolf in sheep's clothing. This much anger towards one single entity could be an act of wrath. A punishment that warranted the removal of wings and halo.

“No. You're being overly aggressive about his blood. Would you chill?” Theodor asked, before looking to me, “Just let the Demon go.”

“Why? Because he's causing problems? If anything, it's Markus who's causing problems. Plus, I still need information!” I snapped, Markus’s hate was practically infectious, and now I was yelling. Was Markus’s sin Pride? A sin that caused all the others? Maybe it was his Pride that infected me and had caused me to turn to anger.

“What do you want to know?” Damien asked simply, a cool calm voice that greatly contrasted the room.

“What will it take to make Veronica Morningstar fall? Without your sisterly guardian, you have no foothold in Heaven and none of-”

“If you think it is my sister who keeps my foothold in Heaven, you are mistaken. It is _Heaven_ who keeps my foothold there. They’re playing victim for an act they don't even understand! You think I started this war just to protect people from you? This is only the beginning of my little revolution. Demons have to kill, slaughter, thousands of your kind just to finally be heard. It isn't until they’ve done unspeakable acts to be _heard_. It isn't until an Angel _falls_ that Heaven cares. They ask questions and are reprimanded. They question the authority, and Heaven doesn't want them anymore! So you tell me. What is it that am I fighting for? Freedom? The right to speak my mind? Equal rights? Tell me, Fallensteel. What is it I'm fighting for!?” The Demon’s roars echoed about the room, and he hardly moved throughout his outburst. Other than his tail giving the mild twitch of irritation, he looked at Markus, “And you. You’re the prime example of this. You look at me and all you see is a Demon gone rouge. A Demon who has not fully been punished for his crime now that I must go through physical torture. Although I crawled out of Hell and fought my way to the human world myself. Do you think I had it easy when I got here? As a filthy crossbreed? I clawed, tooth and nail to where I am now. I was abducted, beaten, abused, and nearly raped by any human who could get their grubby little hands on me. I've been through far worse things than what Hell has to offer, and if you think physical torture will be the thing to bring me down? You're sadly mistaken. Not to mention, Markus? You’ve crossed a line with what you’ve done. You think my kind is a sickness? Something to rehabilitate? Oh. You’re sadly mistaken.”

I looked from Markus to Damien, and to Theo when he pulled on my sleeve to whisper in my ear, “I’ll tell you later.”

But, those red eyes were cold with their fury. A flame that dared to reach out and burn us all if we made one bad move. He rolled up his sleeve, showing that his arm had returned back to its original color. He shoved his arm through the bars, holding it out to the Angel in question.

“If it's my blood you want, take it. You’ll find the same thing I did. Nothing,” He growled between his fangs. Markus did the task as quickly as he could, finding the vein and filling the vial full of reddish black blood. Damien’s wound closed as he withdrew his arm, and turned his attention to me, “I suggest you pull back your forces. Before my sister gets here.”

I could hardly believe him. His  _ sister _ ? A  _ seraphim _ ? Markus took Damien’s word, and was hardly putting the vial of blood into a safe place, muttering to himself as he did so.

“I won't let her get me. Not this time. Nononono. Not on a technicality. Abel, I suggest you get your ass moving. Heaven hath no fury like a Morningstar’s wrath,” His eyes now held a wild look to them, as he obviously was dealing with a racing mind, a thousand thoughts at once, “Do as Damien says, before his sister serves you up on a silver platter to the Velvet Council!”

He ran off with his black briefcase, and turned my attention back to Damien when I heard a dark chuckle from the cell. The Demon’s eyes were on the Angel at my side. He slowly approached the bars, and grabbed hold of them before nearly pressing his face to them. Stream rose from his hand, and the faint smell of burning flesh began to emit from it.

“Theodor. Do me a favor and unleash the gates of Hell. Tell Vincent no mercy.” He grinned, as the Angel ran off, yelling something over his shoulder I could barely hear. He let go of the bar, and sat in the far side of the cell, in the corner so he was as far as possible from me.

“Did you know I was going to do this?” I asked, taking a small step back. Was this the power of a grandmaster? That Markus held so highly?

“Not at all. But, I knew that if this fight was going to last longer than a day, I was calling in my sister. That I was going to show you mercy at first before showing you the ruthlessness of Demonkind. To make it very clear what kind of power I hold in my hands. What strings in this spiders web of mine I can pull, and bring your empire crumbling down. Now, what were you doing with Rachel Dreamflow?” Her name was hissed between his lips, and was forced out thanks to a growl.

“I heard her talking in a bar one night. About how she had captured, “Morningstar’s Pet.” I assumed the two of you ha-”

_ “That so-called pet is my brother.” _

When he hissed, growled, I heard the monster's voice once more, and I saw it's fiery hatred in his eyes. Which almost immediately flickered away, as the Demon looked up at me with resourceful eyes. Like he was on the verge of tears.

“Tell me she brought him here. That he’s… He’s here,” The strong voice was now breaking, weak. Those hard eyes were now glossy. How could he change emotion so quickly? Was the hard exterior the facade? Was this the squishy part on the inside of the cactus? Was this the soft shell that he tried so hard to keep hidden? I flicked my tongue across my lips, what was I to tell the Demon? Was it a lie? Or did that wolf have some hidden power that I was unaware of? Yes, I saw him in tow to that bitch. Dull sky blue eyes shot a desperate look at me, as if he was begging me to save him from those ink black chains she used to drag him around with. He had shaggy black hair, and his clothes were torn and… It was obvious what that woman was doing to him was ever so horrible. I tried to think, decide if the wolf was being used as some kind of magical vessel and would suffer further in this Demons hands, or if he was telling the truth. That the wolf was his brother, if not by blood, then by a promise of some sorts, “Answer me, Abel!”

“No. He’s not here.”

The Demon slumped against the wall, a heavy, overdue sigh leaving his body. Before he collected himself, and now teary, angry, blood red eyes stared at me from the dark corner of the cell.

“I will flatten all of Paradicio if I have to. He’s here in this city. I  _ know _ it. Have fun watching your city fall. Not to mention loosing everything. To me,” The shit eating grin made me want to slap him upside the head, not to mention the mad, wild laughter that erupted from him. He bit into his wrist, and the blood that bubbled forth dripped down his palm before reaching his finger tip, where he began to draw, large intricate circle with symbols that were unfamiliar to me. All that I knew is that the circle was symmetrical. And watching him draw it was nearly hypnotizing, a memorized motion that was now wild, and done in a rushed manner. He was doing it all so fast he seemed nearly hypnotized, but it was done effortlessly… When it was done, the circle glowed a sickly green, as he began to utter something under his breath in a language I didn't recognize. Yes, there was a language that Demons and Angels spoke, but nobody knew both languages at the same time. But that didn’t sound like a Demonic tongue, but a language that was of this Earth… Latin? “I suggest you make your moves quickly. It won't take long for me to return to my rank.”

He pressed both hands to the circle, and had vanished with a flash of the sickly green light and black smoke. A stronger teleportation spell I assumed as I ran down the hallway. Searching for the room Rachel had stashed the wolf, was he that important? Did he hold something that I did not quite see? When I found him in Rachel’s room, he was pulling against his restraints and where she had him chained… the wall was now cracking, he was just moments from being free. Tears were in the wolf's eyes, as he softly muttered to himself.

“Hey! You’re Morningstars… What's your name?” I asked, as I began to search the room for the key to his cuffs. Searching desks, the bed. She was only here a week! Where could she have hidden that thing!?

“Cyrus Morningstar!” He croaked out as he collapsed to the floor, his arms awkwardly stretched out behind him, “The key is in the nightstand.”

I grabbed it, and quickly released him of his chains, finding that the area where they had been around his ankles and wrists were now cut and horribly scarred. He sat on the floor unmoving, until a silent sob broke from him.

“Whats-”

“My brother was _here_. _Damien_. I _felt_ it. Nobody has magic like his. Why did he leave?” The wolf asked in a broken voice. Rough from not having spoken in what I assumed to be years, and his crying that broke his voice further. I took another look at him and saw the tips of his jet black ears were graying, same for his tail tip and the roots of his hair. Time was starting to take its toll on the poor wolf, those sky blue eyes were far more greyish, even with the curse of immortality, time still had her pull on him.

“You can… feel him?” I asked, looking off in the direction of where the cell had been. It wasn't all that far.. Just a floor up and down the hall.

“I’ve spent enough time with that Demon. I know his aura all too well. Not to mention I've been taught… My magic is limited and stunted, but it's here," He summoned a rather weak orb of light, before it fell apart in his hand, "I'm thinking that we should get out of here, no?"

"Y-yeah. Come with me. I'm Abel by the way, Abel Fallensteel," I held out my hand and rose to my feet, "Let me make you a deal. Once I figure it out, for myself, what or… who you are… only then will I return you to your brother. Understand?"

"Will I be chained? Tortured?" He asked in that same broken voice of his. It put a pang of guilt in my chest as I realized that I had let his suffering continue within these walls. I quickly shook my head, "no," and when the wolf took me hand we ran as fast as we could. The building as of now was a headquarters of sorts that sat directly upon Purgatory’s Border. It was now empty with most of the Angels now out on the battlefield. I ran out to a group of Angels who were to escort me home if Theo deemed it necessary, but I was now going to use that for Cyrus. I gave out the strict instruction that he was not to be harmed, and while I was gone, to give him anything he wanted - within reason of course. The small group argued, saying that the getaway car was for me, not some poor injured wolf… However, a few quick words that were far from kind convinced them otherwise. Now with Cyrus out of the way I could handle a larger number of things, like Theoodor's two-faced act. Him, I'd have to handle after this skirmish of ours, but the number one priority as of right this moment was Victoria Morningstar. The Seraphim. 

_ Damien’s sister. _

It was quite obvious the two were siblings, obviously via similar complexions and mannerisms between the two. But, what stuck out to me is that Damien was 6 years older than her. May they have been 6 years apart in the time they were alive, or their deaths were 6 years apart, nobody knew. The mystery of the Morningstar’s deaths was a closely guarded secret. One that even Veronica wouldn't tell, and Seraphims are expected to tell nearly everything they're asked. Imagine them as the great libraries of Heaven, with every bit of knowledge that you would want to know trapped within the mind.

I made my way to the top of the building, and awaited my punishment. I looked at the ruined cannon and sighed, the purple flames that were still eating away at the metal was unmistakable, Fox Fire. Obviously Saeko Miyazaki was here, and somewhere in Damien’s ranks. What a Kitsune of her caliber would want with a grandmaster Demon was beyond me. Or what a Kitsune was doing here. I thought they stayed mostly in Japan, not only being better known there and highly respected. I sat next to the ruined cannon, and stared up at the sky, waiting for the dark clouds to part, and for her to shoot down like a beam of light. What would I be reprimanded for? Because I picked a fight with her brother? Angels fight Demons all the time. That's normal. Because of what he’s fighting for? I didn't know it went deeper than his rant, I thought it was a power hungry Demon who wanted nothing more than more territory. I never knew that the race war against Demons went that deep. I never knew that Damien thought of us - Angelkind - like that. I never knew that the smooth machine of Heaven was cruel, and bloody. Was Damien Heaven’s big scandal? Something that they were trying to silence? He was trying to splurge the big story, show how corrupt Heaven could be… The reporter who was going to be executed for knowing too much.

“Abel… What have you done now, you poor thing?”

The sweet voice sounded from behind me, and I didn't even move. I just leaned against the cannon and sighed.

“I pissed off your brother again. He didn't like the whole… Kidnapping,” I sighed, and closed my eyes, “What’s my punishment this time?”

“Nothing. I'm merely going to make sure your forces retreat, and have a sit down with Damien. Just because he's rusty doesn't mean he gets-”

“Is _that_ the only reason I was able to catch a fucking _grandmaster_ _?_ ” I hissed, as my eyes flew open, and I glared over my shoulder, even though she was still out of sight. She sighed, and walked around the cannon to face me. She was considerably smaller than Damien and wore the typical angel garb a white gown that reached her feet, a silver belt, a silver bracelet on each wrist, and a silver chain with a small purple jem sat about her neck. Unlike her brother's grey hair, hers was platinum silver with black roots, and was long enough to rest about her shoulders.

“Had he been at full power, he could have ripped you apart with a wave of his hand. Currently, he'd have to do it manually.” She said plainly, the even cadence to her voice told me she was dead serious.

“With a blade?” Was my next inquiry. She shook her head, and I saw Damien’s fiery rage in those obsidian eyes for a brief moment.

“By hand,” She looked over the battlefield, her hands interlaced, resting over her stomach, “But, if you plan to take my brother down, you’d best do it soon. As he now will go back into a semi-intensive training. To return to his nearly ungodly status as a grandmaster. Not to mention with Saeko at his side… He’ll be back in no time.”

_ Shit….. Shit…. SHIT. _

“So I’m fucked! At the mercy of a fucking grandmaster!?” I yelled as I jumped to my feet. Veronica slowly turned and smiled sweetly.

“Yes. I suggest you make amends or get thrown onto his chopping block. I hope you're aware that all of Heaven, save for me, is on his shit list. Or, get good scrub,” She smiled, as large silvery, feathered wings appeared behind her, “I'm not going to tell my brother about this conversation. I'm going to tell him at the simple sight of me, you started withdrawing your forces. Purgatorio is now a part of Hell’s District from this moment forward. No arguing… Understood?”

“Yes, Ronnie.” I mumbled, and those obsidian flashed a dangerous ocean blue, and her voice had dipped into the venomous tone that was similar to what her brother used.

“It's Veronica to you, Fallensteel.” She hissed, before taking flight, an ever so elegant action, reminding me how etherial those who were higher ranked, not to mention a Seraphim such as herself. But, if a mortal had seen her, she would have looked completely human, and I guess she liked it that way. With a heavy heart, I went down, and started commanding Angels to retreat, and I could see red eyed Damien amongst them. He looked wild, unhinged, splattered and his hands covered with the dark teal blood of Angels. A grin on his face, and it all read as bloodlust. He had a large pair of headphones on, that fit snugly on the top of his head as he grinned up at me and smiled. All I saw was a Demon driven mad and lost to the bloodlust. He didn't care about the chaos around him, he just stood there, bright red eyes staring up at me, with a fanged grin across his face. There were few small tears in his suit, and a shiny reflective material told me that he hadn't even bothered to heal the wounds. Just letting them bleed and the metal form. I guess he was making an armor out of his blood.

“Oh how the mighty have fallen! And you have such a long way to fall, Angel cake.” He chuckled in that voice… That eerie voice that was a blend of his own and the monsters. But, the Angels did as they were told, and those who didn’t? Were slaughtered in the sea of Demons. I did as I was told, and retreated all the way back to base. The Demons only followed to the edge of my land, roaring with joy as they found that the Angels were running with tails tucked betwixt their legs. As I entered the base, pain struck my chest, as those who were still loyal to me were the few in this room, who were waiting for me. Azrael, Naomi, and Rekio. True Angels, not frauds like myself. Not to mention the last remnants of Old Heaven. Azrael looked pissed about the whole affair, which would make sense since the Old Man was the last Champion of Fury. Bright blue eyes blazed with fury as he stood, using his sheathed sword nearly as a cain. His clothes were not damaged by battle. Everything was still intact. For he wore a golden duster-like coat, with silver designs on the wrists and around his collar that resemble vines, or thorns. He wore a pair of boots that are plated with what seemed like gold. Under the coat, he wears a green tunic that has runes around his sleeves, which glow depending upon what spell he uses, and there are more golden vines around the hem and collar. The Champion pushed his blood red hair back, adn took a deep breath before speaking in a low, calm tone.

“Why? Why retreat?” Azrael asked, staring me down. I sighed, and hung my head as I answered.

“Veronica Morningstar told me to do so.” I mumbled, shoving my hands into my pockets. But, now Rekio was aggressive towards me, the Curator of Twilight swiftly stomped forth. His black knee-high boots loudly tapped against the wood panel floor. The Angel was dressed much like a mage, wearing grey pants, a light grey tunic with ornate designs that change through various shades of the twilight depending on lighting, and where you're standing. Topped off with a black cloak with a golden trim and golden chain clasp. His hair was messy and spiked, jet black with a midnight blue tint. Not to mention those dark violet eyes looked nearly dangerous when he was angry.

“How could you!? Letting a Seraphim walk all over you like that!? Even if itsa fucking Morningstar! I don't care how-”

“Fine! You tell a Seraphim, especially a fucking grandmaster - one nicknamed, “Gods Right Hand.”  _ Veronica being a Morningstar is just the icing. You're ignoring the rest of the cake _ ,” I hissed between my teeth, "You pull your head out of your ass, and stop hiding behind Naomi when you're ready to fight like a man."

I turned on my heel, and stormed upstairs. The little Curator of Twilight was barking at my heels, but luckily, Azrael was talking some sense to him. While I could have my little mental breakdown in the safety of my room. So many Angels, so many lives… All lost tonight. An empire now in shambles… I'd have to recruit, rebuild. But, that could allow change! I could finally wipe that, "Angels Only," clean of this place! A rule that the Angels of this place made, not  _ me _ _. _ It would be difficult, but I would have to command respect. Kinda the way Damien does…

The next few weeks went by like a blur, Angels begged me to take Puragatorio from the Demon's grasp, and others launched their own assaults. Many noticed my low numbers and were willing to join. It took a great deal of time, but the, “Angel’s Only,” rule was returned, and shortly after that I was on speaking terms with Damien again. He asked me what I was planning, if I had ripped apart my own rule. All I told him is that I was going to demand respect from this town. They do everything that they want to do, it's a lawless place. If I have to do something about it, then I will. Oddly, the Demon congratulated me on the change, and asked if it was something that his monster had said, which he called by name. “Samael.” I said that I was just tired, and that it was about time I tamed these Angels. 

By December I had their respect, and their fear. Some needed to be put in their place, especially with the rule in shambles, and Fallens beginning to rise from the underground. I was simply watching the sunset when Naomi approached me, who was a new right hand at this point. Well, all three of them were. Azrael, Rekio, and herself. Naomi was the Guardian of Dusk, and was Rekio’s new guardian after the mishap with the Guardian of Twilight. Unfortunately, a new one was never appointed as a new Guardian of Twilight as that was Old Heaven, and those parts were just simply left to rot and die. Naomi slowly approached me on the rooftop, moving silently, before clearing her throat to announce her presence. I whirled around and was surprised by her outfit. Although there was a good chunk of snow on the ground, she was still dressed in her typical … uniform. A skin tight leather suit, leather boots, white plate-like guards that are hidden under leather to keep from light hitting them and making her easy to spot, but they are on the front of her lower leg,the upper arm, and shoulders. Grey wrappings around her arms hide silver gauntlets, and wears a white scarf around the lower half of her face. I could clearly see those pastel violet eyes, and she still put her hair up. Platinum silver hair with black roots up in a chopsticks bun. 

“Damien wants to talk to you,” She said softly, “Why do you even still associate with him?”

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend. We need to push our differences aside if we want Blackwood dead. Now, what is it Damien wants to talk about?” I asked, returning my gaze on the sky.

“He wishes to warn you. I can relay the message if you-”

“Please do.” I hissed, hoping that his warning wasn't war once more.

“Do you realize how Demon physiology works? Demons go into heat around this time of year,” Naomi said simply, her voice monotone like this was nothing to her. I looked at her seeing her eyes crinkle from the smirk hidden under her scarf, “He says that there will be no physical visits. Apparently he has a taste for, “Angel Cake.” Whatever that means.”

I dismissed her as the mind became a whirl of thoughts. Did Damien want  _ me _ specifically? Angel Cake was a nickname he used for me, and he was Devil Boy. I didn't question where the nicknames came from, but they were kinda always there. I wondered if Angel Cake was me specifically or just Angels in general. Plus, it was against the rules of Heaven and Hell. Fuck, it was rule number one! No form of sexual conduct between Angels and Demons. Breaking of which was nothing but death. Plus, if they got pregnant and a child was born, the two would never see the child, and if the child was a Nephalem, they were to be hunted and killed, every reincarnation. Not to mention it was a sin to bed with another man! Plus, I didn't like Damien that way! I respected and admired the Demon, but that was about all. I wasn't getting on my hands and knees begging him to be in my bed, and I had no wish to court him. Yes, I knew that he swung both ways, but I didn't see him like that.

But, I will admit, there was an allure to him. You saw his secrets or when he was being his typical mysterious self, you wanted to know more. You saw the sudden switch from sweet to angry and you wanted to understand what happened within his mind. How the hidden gears turned, what had all happened in his life to shape him this way?

Speaking of which, Markus had got back to me with his blood test, and figured it faulty. From what it said, Damien was royalty. He went and asked the Seven Princes of Hell, and none of them claimed Damien as their child. Making a remark that the Prince of Lust, Asmodeus probably was his father, as he couldn't quite keep it in his pants. But, Asmodeus wouldn't offer his blood for the test, something that we all figured as odd. However, Hell confirmed that the test was not faulty, Damien was royalty, but none of the Princes would tell us whose son he was. Presuming that running the test themselves found the answer, or simply looking at the test was enough. But, what I didn't understand is that Damien was once human. How could a mortal soul end up being the child of one of the Seven Princes of Hell? 

I tried to shove the thoughts down and onto the problem at hand.

With Damien’s forces all in heat, then he was defenceless all winter. As much as I didn't want to… I’d have to protect the Demon, even with him taking Purgatorio. With a heavy heart, I pulled my phone from my pocket, and called the Demon.

“Angel… What can I do for you?” His voice was a smooth purr. I could almost hear the smirk on his face.

“Naomi told me that you’ve got a problem. One that can’t be helped with a couple dead idiots.” I mumbled, glancing over my shoulder to check that I was alone on the rooftop.

“Oh? She told you about how all of Demonkind is thinking with it's cock? What about it?” His voice held a small edge to it. Was this a sensitive topic and here I was poking him in the eyes about it?

“I’d imagine that if you’re all busy… Then that leaves Hell’s District unprotected. Blackwood may try something. Unless you can get your cock back in your pants and hold a gun long enough to defend where you stand?” I couldn't help but chuckle, as I heard the Demon sigh.

“Fine. Your help is… Needed. And no. Unfortunately I think a gun in my hands would be a bad idea,” He softly chuckled himself, “But, keep your little Angels far away from me. I know it's against the rules but… I’ve kinda got a taste for Angel Cake.”

“Ah ah. None of the nicknames, Devil Boy. Don't need either one of us confusing what you mean by Angel Cake.” I hissed, only to get that dark chuckle. It sounded sinister, like he was plotting something.

“I mean your kind when I say Angel Cake. I'm loyal to Vincent, so it all shouldn't be a worry of yours anyway. So, is that all, Abel?” He asked, the edge fading from his voice.

“Yeah. See ya round, Devil Boy.”

_ Click. _

I sighed, and trotted back to the edge of the rooftop. I hoped to simply slug through the day, and go to bed. But, was able to gather enough Angels for the task, and got a patrol route that Damien agreed to. He kept things under control, from day to day, using pressure with a schedule and promising to rip them limb from limb. Apparently Heat made emotions wildly out of control, and his wrath was not to be trifled with. I found the body along the route, I often liked putting myself on the front line, in case something happened with … Damien.

I knocked on the backdoor, which was a sliding glass door that looked into the kitchen. For a moment I caught a glimpse of the Demon. His white button down was splattered with fresh blood, and his clothes were ruffled like he had gotten into a fight. There were various wounds that made me smile, that the Demon had suffered just a little bit. However, when he turned to face me, the only thing that was remarkably different from the last time I had seen him was the mug in his hands and the grey collar around his neck.

“Abel. What are you-”

“There’s an Angel in your backyard in 27 different pieces. I offered my protection during the Winter, and I get this?” I hissed, waving in the direction of the body, “How about I just leave you to Blackwood!?”

“Speaking of her, what have you heard?” He asked, sipping from the mug as he walked closer to the door. The glass was the only thing between us, and Damien insisted that we were never to be in the same room, or alone. So, it ended up with us yelling through a glass door.

“Nothing! Theo usually keeps an eye on her, and no one has the balls to be an informant. Not to mention how hard it is to get in and out of that city… I don't know what's happening an-”

He held up his hand, a signal to be quiet. He took a deep breath, and the color began to shift to a soft red. Those obsidian eyes were no longer soft, they stared at me with a slow burning rage.

“This is obviously not the time to panic. I’ll send over Queen and her... Maybe not the familiar, but the Nephalem has ties to the Nightshade Clan, she may be able to work some magic, but be careful with her or yourself around the border. You know what she does to the supernatural,” He said calmly, “As for your Angel… Cant be helped. I am a sinner after all.”

With that, he just chuckled, spun on his heel, and walked away.

His remark about being a sinner made no fucking sence, but brushed it off as I went around the manor, assuming he was going to push Queen out and send her off. Which is exactly what he did. The teen seemed mildly pissed about it all, but walked with me. She introduced herself as Queen Cassiopeia, and added that mostly everyone calls her, “Bread.” Her hair was black, wavy shoulder length, and her outfit was odd for the winter, only being dressed in a white shirt, black track jacket, black track pants, black flats, and a black mask that was only around her mouth. She stared at me at times, but let me lead her to the base. Where I got plenty of shit from Rekio from letting, “one of Damien’s men,” into my home. I showed her around before sitting her down in the kitchen to talk. 

“So… I'm gonna lay this out right now. I have nothing against your kind. If anyone gives you crap for existing, go ahead and beat them into the dirt. Now, what do you know of Foxhedge?” I asked, busily going about to make myself a pot of coffee. Queen sighed, rolling her head around on her shoulders.

“Inner workings or the people that the Nightshade Clan has inside?” The Nephalem asked tiredly. Obviously not down for chit chat. She clearly had her priorities together, a very work oriented person, “Or do you want to know everything?”

“What did Damien say the limits of your knowledge were? Especially when it came for you to pass this to me?” I asked, plopping down at the table with a large cup of coffee.

“I can tell you just about anything. I'll just… Lemme start from the beginning.”

Foxhedge was originally a city of refuge, from Demons and Angels. The home of the Supernatural. An old tagline… It was a nice place, almost like Whitehaven or Rosemere. But, that was until Lady Blackwood had become mayor. She took the city and started her campaign against Angels and Demons, using Purgatorio as an example. That Purgatorio was what they were going to become. Now, Lady Blackwood, being the charismatic type - having a way with words - was able to practically brainwash the city, and enlist them into her campaign. To wipe all of Demonkind and Angelkind off the face of the Earth. “Return them to their respective Heavens and Hells” Why Lady Blackwood is so against them nobody knows. The Nightshade Clan - or anyone really - can't quite get close enough to learn anything about the inner machinations of the mind of that psychopath. All that is common knowledge are the horror stories of those who could escape from her grasp. Most of which tells of the citizens are fed into her campaign, all little boys once they turn 18 fed into her war machine. They eventually become hardened soldiers, few and far between can actually tangle with those of Angelic or Demonic decent. Willing to die for their brainwashed ideals, the whole idea of dying free rather than dying enslaved. Apparently, Damien and myself are at the top of her shit list, and she actually thought of trying to form an alliance with myself until the Battle of Purgatory. But, she is, as Damien likes to put it, “a cosmic kitty.” Due to space themed powers, that make her seem nearly godlike. She is able to manipulate energy, but not create it. But, that doesn't stop herself for claiming that she is God, and her powers are proof. How the Neko obtained her powers is unknown, or if it's pure magical ability. But, she's rather talented with it all. The one member that the Nightshade Clan has in Foxhedge is a Fallen Angel by the name of Connor Grey. A Detective for the Heltix Police Department that is tasked with keeping tabs on Lady Blackwood, and the only Angel allowed into Foxhedge. As Grey works for Lady Blackwood, and helps her keep tabs on just about everyone, and he reports all of his knowledge to the Nightshade Clan, so his loyalties are questionable. Being in her faction, working for the H.P.D., … it was a nice little web Connor had made himself. But, even with his pass - which is a physical paper - into Blackwood’s District, he prefers to stay away and out of her Hell. For simple reasons such as the Angel feeling like he didn't quite belong in the district, even with his little pass. She suggested that I go talk to Connor, and that she could come with me to use her connections with the Nightshade Clan to my advantage, even making the H.P.D. bend the way we want. But, even though that all could be accomplished today, and I could have her back into the Morningstar Manor before nightfall, she begged me to stay here in my home. No manor, but a large home nonetheless.

“Why? Even with all the backlash as a Nephalem?” I asked, watching as the kid grew anxious. Her shoulders reaching up around her neck.

“I need space from my familiar, we’re kinda a thing and he's …. Um-”

“He's in heat. Isn't he?” I calmly asked, only to get a stiff nod from the Nephalem, “If you don't mind me asking, _what_ is he?”

“A Vampiric Neko. I'm kinda his …. Food source. But, Damien said he could help with that.” She even pulled her hood down to show various bite marks on the side of her neck. Few of them were fresh, but it was no wonder that she wanted to get away. No need for him to be drunk on her blood,  _ and  _ horny. But, how was Damien supposed to help the Neko with his need for blood? Did Damien…. Bite? Do Demons have Vampiric tendencies? I ignored it, and agreed to let the Nephalem stay, even going so far as to give her a room. I warned her against staying too long, and went and relayed all of the information from Queen to the inner circle. As they didn't want to scare Queen, as the only neutral party between the three of them was Naomi.

“So? Why don't we go tonight? Time is of the essence!” Rekio cried, looking to both Azrael and Naomi to support him.

“Because we’ve got a dead Angel on our hands because Damien is now prone to fits of Wrath. Not to mention he was wearing this weird-ass color changing col-”

“A spirit bound collar. It typically changes color depending on the wearer's virtue or sin. Even darkening the color to show how intense the sin is. For example, the sin of Wrath can have thousands of shades of red, and at some point even get confused for it's pastel cousin, Patience. Why he would need one while he's in hea-”

“Simple,” Naomi interjected, “If he gets to be too much in his lustful state, when the collar turns the color corresponding with Lust, then administer something painful that the Demon in question doesn't like. But, at that point you're treating your boss like a dangerous, untamed animal. That's like if we electrocuted Abel everytime he got cross with us.”

“So it's kinky and it serves a purpose? Sounds like something Damien would use. But, the greater question is what is Damien’s sin? And if it's Lust, how do we know that the electrocution isn't something he gets off on?” I shook my head, “We’re getting off topic. What matters is that if we’re to continue being his bodyguards, he needs to be electrocuted for Wrath as well.”

“I'd hate to play Devil’s Advocate, but,” Rekio began, “What if it already applies to Wrath, and he was so blinded by bloodlust that he just kept going? That the electrocution didn't stop him, but made it worse. Fueling it even.”

“I'd call him and ask all of our lovely little questions. But, … he's a Demon in heat, he's probably hot and heavy with his lover at the moment.” I said sweetly, which earned a physical cringe from Rekio and made Naomi’s face flush.

“Who is that, anyway? The poor soul who is Damien Morningstar’s lover?” Was Azrael’s inquiry.

“Vincent Coleman.”

We turned to face the speaker, and Queen had sauntered into our little meeting room.

“Get out!” Rekio hissed, trying to shoo the Nephalem away, but she simply sat down next to me, a mug of what appeared to be hot cocoa. Going off of scent and appearance.

“Well, I don't know where I'm supposed to be and  _ not _ to be. So shut your mouth. Plus, I wanna be in on this,” She sent a wicked smirk my way before sitting down next to me, “Plus this is like… The one chance I get to talk shit about my boss. So, ask me all your questions about the, “legendary,” Damien Morningstar.”

“Well then, boys. Let's get our questions out of the way! The collar?” Naomi asked, acting as if Queen was a normal occurrence for all of us.

“Zaps him when the collar turns deep violet. Apparently sicko doesn't get off on it. But, it does end up pissing him off if he’s been provoked into a lustful state. Used to make sure he's, “tame,” outside of his room. I'm actually shocked that Abel has been able to have a number of conversations with him without something horrifically dirty coming out of Damien. Not to mention, when he's in heat he needs to be kept cool. There's an ongoing joke that Damien’s room could be used as a butcher's shop, you could freeze a human in there within an hour. We don't know if it's some kind of Fire Demon in his blood, or if it's just him,” Queen shrugged and sipped her cocoa, “So he eats a lot of frozen candies. Like… A  _ lot _ . You wanna see a 2,000 year old Demon throw the worst tantrum you’ve seen on the face of the Earth? Run out of push pops.”

“Push…. Pop?’ Azrael asked, tilting his head to the side.

“Forgive them. They’re a part of Old Heaven, they’ve been around since at least Damien fell from grace.” My comment on their age earned glares from Rekio and Azrael, but Naomi nodded in agreement.

“Oh! Okay! It's a popsicle within a cardboard tube. You push it up from the tube and that's where it gets its name. Not to mention they’re mostly sherbet flavored.” Queen explained quickly. Azrael looked up at me, like he was asking if we could get push pops so he could have one himself. While Rekio slumped back in his seat, probably trying to think of the next thing we could ask about Damien.

“How do you know so much about Damien and his … Winter habits?” Rekio asked, the Angel leaning forward with his question.

“I’ve worked for Damien for one and a half years. This is the third Winter I’ve had to deal with. Unfortunately, my familiar joins the masses,” she sipped her cocoa again, and seeing Naomi tense up, she cut the Angel off, “Apparently, Nekos don't experience their first heat until they turn 18. So, this is his first.”

“Damn. Does he have his eye on you?” Azrael asked, sounding a touch defensive. Like he was worried the Neko would … rape Queen. Being a Nephalem, I was certain she could hold him off. But, those blue eyes were staring at the wall, in a far off land.

“Don't worry. He hasn't tried raping me. It's just been a lot of … talk. We need our space. It's the only reason I’ve agreed to on this little arrend Boss sent me on,” She looked down at her cocoa, “I can hold him off if he gets to be too much. Don't worry about that. I am a Nephalem after all.”

I figured it was a sensitive topic, and didn't push her on it, especially when her attention snapped back up at the rest of us, and continued to answer questions. Naomi was the only one who seemed brave enough to ask about Demons in heat, and things surrounding Damien and his lover. Not to mention questioning the sexualites of the two. Which, took a while after Queen had to explain Pansexualtiy, and they already knew what gay meant. But, Rekio was rather appalled to know what being Pansexual meant, knowing that one did not care about the gender of thier sigificant other was quite the shock to the Curator of Twilight, and Naomi was the only one who seemed relatively okay with it. If anything, she asked if she could pick Queen’s brain about different sexualties some time. Azrael seemed if that, confused by it all. He was the oldest at our table here, and if anything, he was learning thanks to Naomi’s curiosity, and complete lack of prejudice. After that, questions began to arise about simple day to day tasks. Queen explained that there was another Nephalem named Nikkiye Winston who was far more powerful than Queen, and was often on assignment. May that be in other cities, or out of the country. There was no place that was safe from the other Nephalem, as she had visited both Paradisio while the rule was still in effect, and had been to Foxhedge a number of times. The story of Nikkiye Winston was a mystery to Queen, and none of us pushed for it. But, she seemed all too open to talk about Damien’s faction, and it made us all wary that the young Nephalem was telling us nothing but lies. However, once she was done with her cocoa, she bid us all adieu and headed off to bed. The two boys went to bed, but Naomi still wanted to talk. She looked over at me with a sly smile and leaned back in her chair.

“So. Is dear Damien Morningstar your new obsession?” Naomi softly asked.

“No. I'm just-”

“Not like that. I just mean, when you look at him, all you want is to know how those gears within his mind are turning. Why he does what he does. How he functions in his day to day life. You wish to unravel the mystery that is his mind,” Naomi explained, as she rose from her seat, “I won't judge you for it, but I know the boys will. Specifically Rekio. All I have to say is mind the rules of Heaven and Hell, and don't get tangled up in his web.”

I didn't think much of Naomi’s warning, and if I were to look back on that moment, it was probably a moment of extreme arrogance. But, the past is in the past.

The next morning Queen led me to Whitehaven, and we moved mostly on foot. I didn't like driving, and she refused to let me fly. So, I let my wings tuck up against my back to simply keep me warm. The winters here in Heltix were cold and harsh, a playground for Demons in heat. The winter air felt like summer to them, and could roll around in the snow without the cold nipping at their skin. I wasn't paying attention to the walk, and noticed she was leading me right into the Heltix Police Department. I grabbed Queen by the arm and stopped her stride.

“Queen! Are you dumb? I'm not exactly in good graces with the H.P.D.!” I hissed, looking about. The Nephalem only chuckled, and pulled her arm out of my grasp.

“Yeah? Damien walks in here all the time! Plus, with me present they’re not allowed to touch you. What, do you have something to hide, Fallensteel?” That cocky smirk that took her face was remicant of Damien’s, as she rolled her eyes. We all had our ways of getting money, Damien’s was import and export of weapons, mine was drugs. Which, was rather unfortunate with the small gang in Rosemere trying to do something similar. They were definitely competition, but with the Angels Only rule abolished, it definitely made raking in the cash a lot easier. But, Damien, the tricky devil, has it where it all looks legal, so the H.P.D. is stuck trying to catch him on a murder or a flaw in his books. With a heavy heart, I followed the Nephalem into the Heltix Police Department, and got a number of stares. But, nobody exactly stopped us, and we headed into an office labeled, “Detective Tristan Spade.” There was nothing that stood out to me about the office, it seemed very simplistic. A bookshelf sat on either side of the window, deep green carpet, a dark oak desk, and matching chairs furnished with red padding on the back and on the seat. The only thing that seemed out of place was a small American flag, sitting on a golden pole beside his computer. Not to mention the chap behind the computer looked out of place himself, with violet eyes and black sclera, reminding me of a Demons eyes. He had chestnut brown hair that was messy, and there was an obvious attempt to fix it, but it was unsuccessful. I began to wonder if he was a demon, since he sported most of the tell tale signs. Fangs, pointed ears, and the tail. But no horns. He wore a deep blue v neck, a black hoodie, torn jeans, and black skate shoes. When unceremoniously entered his little office, he jumped up from having his feet on the table, and stood behind his desk.

“Queen Cassiopeia! What can I-”

“Shut the chit chat, Sinner,” The Nephalem hissed, “I'm helping my buddy here out with gathering information on Foxhedge.”

The man looked from Queen to me, and a look of confusion overtook his face.

“I thought you worked for Morning-”

“I do. He asked me to help Fallensteel. I just want to know where Connor Grey is. That's it. I don't want or need any of your playful banter right now.” She snapped, keeping the cold, dark tone as she flopped into one of the chairs in front of his desk. But, the man only chuckled - who I assumed to be Tristan Spade - and slowly sat back down.

“Why not? When Fallensteel has trotted into my office!” He cried, gesturing towards me. But, Queen jumped from her seat, and slammed her hands on the desk.

“I don't need you and your thirst for Angels getting in my way,  _ Sinner _ _. _ Keep it in your pants, and tell me where Connor is.” She hissed.   
  
“Whoa, whoa! Queen take it down a notch! He hasn-”

“No. He is literally a Sinner. Tristan here was once human. How did you die?” Queen asked, looking at the young man. He simply leaned back in his chair and released a heavy sigh.

“I died in World War Two. I wanted Connor. More ways than one if you understand. Because of that, I am, as the technical term goes, a “Avatar of Lust.” Or the far more common term being, a Sinner. So, please do forgive me for any sexual remarks. But, I'm not looking to repent. I'm here to raise some Hell while I’m here. Now, as for Connor’s death, I know very little. Presumably dying on the battlefield,” His gaze was now venomous, angry as he looked to Queen, “Happy?”

“Very. Because now Fallensteel knows how to spot another one of your kind. Surprised he doesn't know already. Especially with how much he has to deal with the Boss… Now, where is your ever so precious Angel?” Queen hissed, staring the poor sinner down.

“Here in Whitehaven actually. Locked up in his safehouse. Last I heard he was a little shaken from the general reception. Borderline chased out of Foxhedge,” Tristan mumbled, “Id take you there myself, but working for Morningstar, you already know what season it is.”

“It affects you too?” She asked, scooting back in her chair, “So you're probably lucky to be in the office then.”

He nodded, and wrote something down on a piece of paper before handing it over to Queen.

“There’s his phone number. Use it if he's not at the safehouse. You know how to introduce yourself, Queen. Now, what are you two planning that you need good old Connor?” He asked, his gaze narrowing at me specifically.

“I’ve entered a pact of sorts with Morningstar. I protect him during the winter, for something in return. That something remains undetermined with his mind clouded as of late. I fear that Lady Blackwood will throttle the chance to kick a man while he’s down. I'm the last line of defence for Morningstar. I should do my job right and collect intel. Not to mention, she owes me a favor or two. Especially keeping that madman locked up,” I said coldly, “Now no more of your games.”

“So the Angel speaks. Not to mention bites,” He looked to Queen, and nodded to the door, “I suggest you two run along.”

As we walked, it had begun to snow, and I saw her cast multiple spells to keep herself warm. I wanted to wrap a wing around her, but they were painfully trapped beneath my trench. Not that I had to 100% hide myself as an Angel, but the wings were a dead giveaway. Not to mention keeping them so tightly to my person helped me keep warm. But, our walk was not entirely in blissful silence, Queen had to open her mouth at some point.

“You have a deal with Lady Blackwood?” She softly asked, glancing up at me briefly. 

“Not really. It's a theory of hers and she believes it's real as flesh. There’s a gentleman in Foxhedge named, “Cain Fallensteel.” She thinks we’re the actual Abel and Cain, the sons of Adam and Eve, and that Cain is here in Heltix to kill me. So, she did the logical thing and locked him up. If I were the son of Adam and Eve, wouldn’t I remember? Not to mention I'd be older than Damien and most likely a Grandmaster of white magic. Plus, if that were true, I’d be just as powerful as Damien!” I explained as we walked along. Queen had quickened her pace, trying to hurry through the light layer of snow. She didn’t seem to want to talk anymore, so I turned my gaze to the city. It seemed a very strange part of Heltix, most of it was suburban homes and residential parts from what I had seen, but Whitehaven was covered with tall buildings, skyscrapers, most which were office buildings that had been beautifully crafted, until I was led to a far more decrepit somewhat suburban part of town. She approached a white house that looked like it had been long since abandoned, and the paint was peeling off the boards. I couldn't help but to pull at some of it as Queen knocked on the door and patiently waited.

“Who’s there!?” A timid voice called from the otherside of the door.

“The night calls, little Angel.” Queen said simply. There was the sound of something unlocking, and the deadbolt being pulled before the door cracked open, and an ocean blue eye stared at the two of us.

“Hey Queen. But, what is fucking _Abel Fallensteel_ doing here? I thought you worked for Morningstar.” He whispered, sending paranoid glances my way. She sighed, and rolled her head around on her shoulders.

“Morningstar and Fallensteel have an alliance at the moment. Even though the Battle of Purgatory was like … a month ago,” She glanced over at me, her gaze venomous as she stared me down, before looking back at the crack in the doorway “Since Da-. Morningstar is in a touch of hot water with the season, Fallensteel is in charge of protection and fears Lady Blackwood will use this opportunity to attack Morningstar. So, what better a time to go learn of Lady Blackwood. You are the only Angel allowed within their walls.”

The door slowly opened to show the Angel in the doorway. He was dressed in some kind of casual wear, just a blue and white tie-dye hoodie, black jeans, and combat boots. Above his messy black hair was a metalic black halo, and a small set of black wings hung at his sides. So Connor wasn't just an Angel, but a Fallen Angel. I didn't think much of it as he stepped aside, and gestured to us to head inside. I followed Queen, and the house was as wrecked on the inside as it was on the outside. The carpet was peeling, and there were so many stains that I didn't even want to identify. Furniture was turned over, torn or broken. Most of the windows were boarded up, and the only area that seemed decent was the kitchen. He trotted over to the pot of coffee, and poured himself a mug before sitting down.

“What would the great Abel Fallensteel like to know about Lady Blackwood and her Foxhedge?”

_ “Everything.” _

As he sighed and began his spiel, he made the disclaimer that what he had seen was traumatizing for him, yes talking bout it was helpful for Connor, but it made the wicked dreams come back. But, as he began, he explained that Jade Blackwood trusted no one, and was heavily paranoid, and if she had the slightest idea that she was being betrayed or someone was disloyal to her cause, she would have them executed. Most of which are innocent souls, and she's mostly the one killing the innocents, but the ones who really have done something horrible to her get public executions. She has total control over the city and runs almost a dictatorship. There is propaganda all over the city encouraging any male over the age of 18 to join what is called The Cardinal Command, but the citizens refer to it as The Forsaken Soldiers in private. Many citizens have bowed down, and accepted their leader. But, those are the true forsaken. They have to have the perfect suburban home. A wife who does all the cooking and cleaning, a husband as the breadwinner, and a child to replace them. This child, from an early age, is brainwashed from what's on their tv’s, comics, and living in a world of propaganda. When there is a protest, they’re told to look away, and those who cry out against Lady Blackwood’s command is simply, “broken.” A rusted cog that no longer works in their death machine. Those who fight back hide within the bowels of the city, and are just trying to scrape by. A life in Purgatorio, even after the fight, sounds like paradise. Just because they’d be able to breath, think on their own, do what it is that they want! But, there is a far greater fear looming over the city. If you do believe in what Lady Blackwood says, and you’re loyal to her cause and have the perfect suburban home, the parents suffer a far greater fate. Connor stopped and shivered for a moment, looking to Queen for guidance, only to get a warm smile and a soft nod. Seemed like the Nephalem had some kind of sympathy for this Fallen, rather than the Sinner we saw back at the police department. He took a breath and began to speak once more.

“The adults are killed once the bird has left the nest, no longer useful once they are too old. As they are told that mortality is such a fragile thing, with medicine and drugs needed to keep it running. All of the medicine goes to the wealthy and The Cardinal Command, so isn’t it more efficient to kill them when they are too old to work? When they are no longer useful!?” Connor quickly rose from his seat, pointing in the direction of the city, “And they accept it! They treat it like it's normal! They even treat the very day they die as just another appointment, an errand to run! Like it's some great thing that only happens to the best of the best! Like death is nothing more than an honor!”

He was on the verge of tears, but he was hugging himself, and his face was contorted into rage. Queen slowly rose, and held out her arms to hug the poor guy. He looked at me, those ocean blue eyes alight in rage.

“You and Morningstar better tear her down from that pedestal. Show that woman she is far from the God she claims to be. I think the simple sight of her own blood would show her.” Connor hissed as he waddled over to Queen, and allowed himself to be hugged. I just stared at the table, so that meant every story from the lucky souls that had escaped was true. Real as flesh. If that, even worse than those that Heltix knew all too well. No wonder they had to go through so much therapy, no wonder they were so panicked, and kept asking, “do you believe me?”

“We plan to do so once spring comes. That way Damien isn't busy thinking with his cock,” I said simply, “But do you know anything of what Black-”

“No. She’s building up her army. You and Morningstar are safe… For now. As for her powers, simply is energy manipulation. She is unable to create or destroy energy. Does that answer whatever you were going to ask?” Connor’s voice held a tremor to it. Taking the simple action of discussing her was enough to scare him. Or, going off his body language, an intense mixture of sorrow and rage. I slowly nodded yes to his question, and he pushed Queen away, and pointed out the door, “Then out. You never saw me.”

I held up my hands, nodding as I headed to the door.

“But can at least Queen stay? To bring you back down to a more stable place.” I said over my shoulder. There was a shuffle, and a quick whisper, before Queen spoke.

“I was planning on that. But, I suggest you call up Morningstar and play telephone, and recite to him what Connor here has told you. However, you don't fucking tell Damien about Connor. Or where you got the information. Now run along.”

I nodded, and left the house. Letting the directions fade from memory as I walked back home. I had more of the puzzle laid out before me, but there was a part that was missing. We had the knowledge of what she was doing to the city, her powers, and a touch of her personality, but how did this all start? How did Foxhedge get so bad? How did she rise to power in that city? How did she even come to have powers like energy manipulation? Was she born with it, or obtained? And most of all, what spawned forth her hatred for mine and Damien’s kind? Some pieces weren’t needed, and could easily be glossed over, but I wanted to know what exactly made her tick, what exactly happened in the mind. Nothing happens on this Earth without rhyme or reason… Unless God decided to fuck things worse than they are. I was far swifter walking home, having avoided any crowded areas, or anything remotely close to the H.P.D. But, when I walked in through there was a surprise sitting on the floor. A semi-translucent Damien, sitting criss crossed, his back turned to the door. Swaying slightly while humming a song to himself.

“Damien?” Was my soft inquiry. He jumped to his feet in one fluid motion, and smiled as he clasped his hands behind his back.

“Bout time ya got here! I’ve been waiting for ages! Where…” He floated upward, so the tips of his toes were barely touching the ground, “My Nephalem?”

“She ran out, I didn't understand a word of what she said. I thought she was headed home. I’m sure she’ll be headed back to the Morningstar Manor soon. What are you,” I gestured to him, “Doing?”

“Ah! Yes… So, Cyanide came up with an experimental drug that can cure Demons of being in heat, and it worked! I'm just… Unconscious for three days now. Maybe a week... Regardless! He had a Spiritbound Bracelet! Since, I can't quite do astral projection yet. I'm brushing up on all of my skills, so I need this to help me for now,” Damien held out his wrist, and showed that there were black keltic knots, “It tattoos itself onto the spirit, so it cant be removed, until I return to my body. So, what you see is yes, my pitch black soul.”

The smile, how cheerful the Demon was, it was unnerving. I knew of the Spritbound Bracelet, and its uses. Those uses primarily being between lovers in long distance relationships, not to mention it's powers was borderline astral projection, allowing the user what degree of visible, heard, and solidity they wanted. They could even choose if they wanted to be touched! The ghostly powers even earned it the title, “Ghostly Silver.” 

“So, what are you doing here?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. The Demon smiled as he clasped both hands behind his back, and gilded just an inch off the ground as he “flew,” backward.

“Spying. I thought I could be of some use to you in the fight against Blackwood. Plus, I wanted to give you what information I had on Blackwood. A collaborative effort if you will.” He smirked as I walked around the Demon, he followed me through the foyer, and up the stairs into my room as I pulled off the trenchcoat, and the thick sweater I had put on before we left. Leaving me in a simple blue crew cut. I looked to the patiently waiting Demon, and sighed.

“From what I’ve been told, we’re safe until spring,” I put everything away, before pulling on a black duster. One that I had stolen from Naomi, because of its softness. With her tiny frame, it was baggy on her, but fit just right on me. When I looked back at Damien he had an eyebrow propped up, like it was that weird for me to wear women's clothing, “Got a problem?”

“No. Just didn't you picture not caring about gender norms. But, why are we safe until spring?” Was his next inquiry as I headed downstairs. The Demon’s ghost following me like a lost puppy.

“Building an army I guess. Now, before I tell you anymore, I have a small rule to lay down about the sharing of information-” I stopped, and whirled around, only for Damien to float  _ through _ me. I felt a cold rush over me, and it was wet too. I shivered violently, and whirled around to the Demon who was patting his chest, “- What the fuck was that?”

“I feel like I just got impaled… Not that I know what that feels like.” His gaze narrowed when he mentioned getting impaled, but landed on the ground with a soft tap, and became more… colored? I guess that's hard for a guy who's mostly black and white, save for his skin, and his eyes. Which were now their calm obsidian, rather than the bloody red.

“Are you solid now?” I asked, throwing a weak punch that was easily caught. Touching skin rather than going through him again, “Good to know you didn't waltz into my home with your guard down.”

He smirked, and I saw that fire in his eyes for a brief moment. The cheerful energy was now gone, and there was now something dark there, something dangerous.

“I'm not that naive. Now, what was the rule you wanted?” The Demon asked, as he let go. I cleared my throat, and continued my route to the kitchen. 

“We don't ask about sources. It's just the information that matters.” I said simply as I went about making myself a cup of hot cider.

“Agreed! Don't worry, that's a boundary I don't plan crossing. Now, tell me what you know.”

With a heavy heart, I told the Demon everything I knew, which was rather easy with it fresh in my mind. He actually had the audacity to summon a notebook, and start writing - taking  _ notes _ _! _ \- But, I didn't question it, as the notebook was slid back over, and he filled in some of my missing pieces. One part simply said: why? Underlined and written over so many times it was nearly illegible in his messy handwriting. But, the why was scrawled below.

_ Her parents were priests, who commonly communicated with a very strange Ice Angel. It is believed this Angel sent the Demons who killed her parents. Having the Angel’s blessing, she used what powers it gave her to escape. _

On the next page was a sketch of the Angel, simply as a silhouette, and I knew immediately who it was. There was only one Angel in all of Heaven that liked to wear long flowy robes like how they do in renaissance paintings.

_ Markus Williams _

So Jade was another victim of that man and his mission to rehabilitate Hell. To turn Demons back into at least Fallens, to lead them on a path to returning to the Angelic World. Which was impossible. Yet here he was using charm and a free pass into Heaven to let their Pride go to their heads, and end up in Hell over a, “good deed.” I pointed at the drawing, and had to resist the urge to claw at it, or growl. An Angel's wrath was not something to be trifled with, to say simply.

“I know who that is,” I hissed, as I slowly rose to my feet, it made me wish I had claws that I could sink into the page and tear it out, “That's-”

“Markus. An Ice Angel who Hell has gone to the Velvet Council time and time again! That man is a wolf in sheep's clothing. His Pride has gone to his head, he is a sinner, end of the story. But, nobody has enough of a voice to do anything. You do have to take into consideration though, those who do speak up are most of Demonkind. And pfft. Who is gonna listen to us!?” I was surprised that Damien even knew his name, and he seemed just as pissed, but was under a tether that showed his wrath as a gentle flame just under it all. Not to mention his shift in tone when he mentioned the Velvet Council. I bit my tongue, and shifted my gaze away from the drawing. Demonkind was truly a victim under the hand of this Angel. As much as I hated it, I thought for a moment to talk to Veronica about it, but I don’t think Damien would like me running to his sister with advice… Maybe it was time to see this differently. From a sinner’s point of view.

“Why …. Why aren’t Demons heard? You were one of us at some point. You deserve to be heard.” I said simply, slinking back down in my seat. Damien sneered as he pulled the book close, and closed it as it vanished into black smoke. 

“We’re not one of you anymore. We’re killers. We’re sinners. These disgusting dirty things to you all who hold yourself above the law. Those who abide by it are disregarded, that one Demon will ruin it for the rest of us. One Demon starts a fight with an Angel in Purgatorio, and all Demons are bad. We’re instantly _your_ problem. The _world's_ sickness, if you ask Markus. So, Abel. Why do we go unheard if we were once one of you?” His tone was dripping with venom and those eyes had a faint crimson to them. He had leaned back in his chair and was staring me down as I sighed. Of course. The Prideful Angel complex was to blame here. Those who saw their right as Angel, not as a right, but a rank. And Demons … were so far below them. 

“What if you had a voice? Someone to speak for you?” I softly asked, “Someone still within God’s good graces?”

“Veronica would-”

“Not Veronica.” I snapped, watching confusion wash over the Demons face, quickly followed by surprise.

“You?! Acting as all of Demonkind’s voice? A little hard to imagine..” He exclaimed, before his gaze became searching over my face, “What’s with the change of heart?”

“During the Battle of Purgatory, Veronica came down to vist me. Explaining that your capture, although brief was a wakeup call to … get back into shape. To return to your status as grandmaster. Refining your skills until you’re back to your former glory. She suggested that I do one of two things. Finish you off then, or suck up to avoid death. We had a nice awkward alliance before the Battle of Purgatory anyway, I’d like to go back to that.” There was a smirk on the Demon’s face I wanted so badly to smack away, but nonetheless, he held out his hand to shake.

“Enemies to allies?” Was his inquiry.

“Enemies to allies.” I echoed as I shook his hand.

We spent the rest of the day going back and forth about Lady Blackwood, sharing information, and Damien had another missing piece to the puzzle, her rise to power. Each district has a defined leader and that leader affects their district as they see fit. Pandemonium has Damien. Paradicio has me. Whitehaven has Maxwell Nightshade. Rosemere doesn't exactly have one, but there is a guardian there that will fight for the city without another word. Foxhedge was ruled by a Kitsune for a very long time, until Jade questioned his gentle rule. As this Kitsune had a rule similar to Damien’s - asking for respect in return for protection. Jade felt it was too lax, and his control on Foxhedge should be tight, snakelike. So, there was a throwing of the gauntlet of sorts. Whoever won, got the city.

She won, and beat the Kitsune, and forced him out of the city.

But, Damien was quick to clarify that no, Saeko was not the Kitsune in question. But, the only thing Damien could find on this Kitsune was his nickname: Hiro. Originally, before the thought of an alliance between the two of us was even a thought, he planned to hunt down Hiro, wherever he was hiding, and propose a rematch. One that he would make sure that Hiro would win. 

He didn't splurge on how, but that wicked grin told me that it would be far from a fair fight with the Devil in the details.

I suggested that we find him anyway, with two Kitsunes on our side we would be nearly unstoppable, which Damien seemed to take it all as an insult. He claimed he was returning to his, “former glory,” and wouldn't, “need no Kitsune.” But, he quickly added that Saeko had a strong distaste for Angels, and was the one who fanned the flames of the original Battle of Purgatory. She had told him to show me with this battle who I’m messing with, and how there should be a strong reminder between Demons and Angels. The difference between light and dark. 

I stared at him for a moment before he held up his hands.

“I know, I know. I'm dumb-”

“No you fight for Demons having a voice, but yet you listen to that! The whole bullshit where, “Darkness is stronger than light.” Which is the biggest lie I’ve ever heard! If you wanna see what I can do-”

“I know full well what you can do, I was once the Archangel of Death myself,” I was about to cut him off, but was signaled to be quiet, “I was once a grandmaster as an Angel. I know your limitations, even if you go against Heaven’s rules. They really like a delicate balance of power. People like me? Ruin it,” He chuckled for a moment, “Curiosity didn't kill the cat. It struck Heaven.”

But, as Damien clarified, that if Heaven’s crutches weren’t on that power balance, then a properly trained Angel could easily tangle with a few Demons. Heaven wouldn’t have as many casualties. 

The Demon stayed for a whole week, and we had an awkward sort of friendship when he left. Not to mention a greater understanding of each other. Leaving me with a small piece of how Damien’s mind functioned. For a Demon, he was loyal, and honorable. He was loyal to those he loved, and held a fierce protection over them. As for his honor, it was the old ways of Hell that had stuck with him. Which stated that a Demon’s contract was exactly as he said it was. That his word, and your handshake was law. If you broke the contract, he got to be venomous. If not, he was peaceful. A, “Good Demon,” if you will. 

But, it was strange, of all things that he kept with him of Hell, that was one of them. But, from Heaven’s records, he was mostly on Earth. So, how was that so? He was still a confusing mystery that I desperately wanted to unravel.


End file.
